Smut. Suggestive content. Phone sex. Mentions of a minor argument.

On Wednesday, close to midnight, you were fighting to fall asleep. Your body just wouldn't relax, and your mind wouldn't stop running through everything you had to do tomorrow. On top of how exhausting the day had been, you lay there staring at the ceiling, frustrated, waiting for your eyes to finally give in to the dark and shut.

Your phone, lost somewhere in the sheets, started vibrating. It took you a few seconds to find it, feeling around blindly, and when you saw the name on the screen, you thought it might've been better not to find it at all.

Chris let out a low, almost proud laugh—teasing. "You picked up…" he said, his voice rough.

"What do you want, Chris?" You rolled your eyes, the annoyance clear in your tone.

"I know it's late, and you're probably in bed… I am too." His voice dropped noticeably on those last words. "But I wanted to apologize for earlier…"

"And you couldn't just text me like a normal person?"

"I'm kinda… busy to type. Calling was faster." He excused himself. "Listen, I know what I said was messed up. I didn't mean it like that, okay? I'm sorry…"

You didn't even really remember what the fight was about anymore, but you were pretty sure it was some stupid thing that made you ignore his messages for way too long.

Besides, hearing his voice like that—low, almost whispered—did something to you. And you knew he knew it. You wouldn't have been this easy to convince over text.

"It's fine, Chris. It was stupid… I'm sorry too, I... overreacted." You shifted against your pillows, ready to finally go to sleep with a clearer conscience.

"Thanks. I'm— I'm glad we're good." He replied, and a few seconds of silence followed, where neither of you really knew what to say. Or maybe you did, but Chris's breathing was distracting you.

"I just wanted to hear your voice..." He let out a deep sigh—he hadn't meant for you to hear it, but you did. "I missed you a little."

"My voice? Why?" You didn't hide the laugh in your voice. It was kind of funny how easily he slipped back into being clingy.

"You know why…" You could picture that cocky little smile of his. "Cuz I'm selfish… That's what you told me last time, remember?"

"I was mad, Chris. We already talked about that—" He cut you off immediately.

"I've been thinking about it. And you're kinda right…" Why did he sound so… pleased about it?

"What are you even saying?" Part of you wanted to hang up or tell him to fuck off again, but the other part was begging you to keep listening to his soft voice through the phone.

"I don't like doing it alone… I want you with me." He sounded like he was rambling, not giving you anything too specific.

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb right now..." This time his sigh wasn't subtle. "It's kinda your fault, you know?"

"Is it?"

"Yeah… you spoiled me." You laughed, keeping the sound quiet. "It's just… boring if it's not you. I can't."

"You need me that much? So much you can't even handle yourself?" There was teasing in your tone—how could there not be?

He let out a soft, nasal laugh. "Yeah… i'm not even gonna deny it."

You didn’t answer. You let yourself enjoy listening to him breathe slowly, waiting for him to keep talking on his own.

"It doesn't feel right if I can't hear you." Chris's hand pressed against his hardness through his jeans. The friction against the fabric felt painfully good. And when he tried to get rid of it, all he could think was how much he missed you.

He'd had a lot of time to himself while you ignored him so easily. He imagined every possible way he'd apologize without needing words. And how he could even flip the situation and make you the one asking for forgiveness… begging him…

It all became too much, the way his mind spiraled, and he needed at least to hear you—maybe even convince you to help him out.

"You like it too. Don't even try to deny it…" he spoke again, just as calm as before. "You didn't have to pick up. You could've just texted me to go to sleep, or hung up in the first five seconds…" His words came out in whispers, broken up by the occasional groan. "But you're still here, listening, knowing I'm touching myself... because of you."

"And that turns you on? Knowing you still have my attention?"

"Yeah. A lot." He let out a lazy laugh. You could hear the metal of his belt buckle, the fabric of his jeans shifting as he struggled to pull them down with one hand.

You were never strong when it came to him. And it annoyed you that he was right. You liked being the one he called, even though he had plenty of other numbers in his phone.

You shifted on your bed, pushing the covers aside as your body warmed up, your hand sliding over your lower stomach, not ready to give in just yet.

"I don't know what to do anymore…" He didn't even need you to speak at this point. "You ignore me and I think about you... I try to sleep and I think about you. I dream about you… about the things I want to do to you…"

"What do you want to do to me, Chris?" You played along—already way too deep in it—slowly letting your hand drift lower.

"I want to hear you… how you whine when you're close… I want to hear you moan my name, I want to hear you come." He said it without shame or hesitation.

"I need this… I need you… please."

That plea was what finally made you give in, joining him in the fantasies of what you'd be doing if you were together in that moment.

Eventually, the sighs on the other end of the line said what words couldn't. Chris had to slow his touches down, keep himself from ending it too fast. As much as he wanted to, he needed it to last a little longer.

He found a twisted kind of pleasure in that torturous wait for release. He just didn't want to stop listening to you. You didn't even have to talk—just hearing your movements and your soft gasps was enough to drive him insane.

When the pain and pleasure became unbearable, Chris let out a broken sigh, confessing he couldn't hold back anymore, that he was about to come. And that was enough to leave you satisfied too.

There were a few seconds of silence again, filled only with the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath.

"When can I see you?" Chris was the first to recover. "I meant it when I said I missed you."

"Really? You wanna talk about that now?" You laughed dryly.

"Sorry." That familiar shy laugh came through. "It's just… it really frustrates me that you're not here. I need you here…" His voice wavered, going soft.

"When you come back to Boston. You know it's really hard for me to go all the way over there."

Somehow, you could hear him smiling. "It's in the plans. I'm tryna go in a couple of weeks… not for many days... but at least for a weekend."

"Well, when you're around, we can do something here at my apartment."

"Great. Can't wait. We can actually do some of the stuff we talked about…" This time, you were the one blushing. "Thank you again… get some rest."

—chrattvibe.

masterlist.

#who'sgirlamI? #it'sthestubble.