Gotham Gazette's best

It's read the next minute, three dots appearing before...

"I miss you too. like so much"

Then...

"Just finished training and should be home at 9 if you wanna ft"

If you started dolling yourself up now and changed into something with a little more sex appeal than your "no one's seeing me" pyjamas, you could be ready to facetime by nine.

You message back, moving to stand up, "I have to wait till 9 to see you? please can I get a photo of you in the locker rooms?"

Way over in New York, Johnny smirks on the other side of the screen.

"Johnny! Stop sexting your girlfriend and hurry the fuck up! Or we're leaving you behind and you can get an uber!" one of his mates he carpooled to and from practice with calls out.

"Dude! The mandatory water breaks! I need to take a leak!" Johnny yells back across the courts, thanking whatever higher power made it this the session their coach implemented such, making an easy excuse, as he shoves his phone into his shorts pocket for the jog to the change rooms, just to whip it out the second he was in front of the mirrors.

Johnny nudges his shorts waistband lower, just shy of any pubic hair, and tries a few different poses with his shirt lifted before putting the hem in between his teeth and flexing his now free arm.

"like this?" comes through earlier than the photo, which gets you excited, pausing your makeup, and what a photo that followed.

Your cheeks grow hot, clenching around nothing as your hips squirm for some friction.

"exactly like that 🤭" you send in response.

Your phone clock showed 9:09 when you did the final flattering toss of your hair and moved back to bed. On your stomach, propped up on your elbows, phone held out in a way that conveniently pushed your breasts together and showed that highlighted cleavage to the front camera, you facetime Johnny's contact.

It rings three times, then Johnny answers, hair still dripping wet from his recently exited shower, towel around his waist, positioning his phone to stand against his toothbrush holder on his bathroom counter.

He tips his head back to avoid toothpaste spilling out of his mouth as he says, "what up?"

You don't respond (because what were you to say? "I'm horny"?) in the time it takes him to spit out the minty foam and glance at you on his screen.

"Shit, you look good."

You smile, shimming in place as you shifted, "you think so?"

He nods, "yeah."

"If I knew we were looking good for this, I wouldn't have answered brushing my teeth," he tells you, and you giggle. "And maybe be in something more decent than a towel," he adds, muttering.

"Johnny, my tits are half out," you respond, "I clearly don't mind."

"Wait—" you watch the gears turn in his head as he realises your intentions. "Do you wanna have phone sex?" he asks in a whisper.

"I mean...I'm not against the idea..."

"I really shouldn't have answered this brushing my teeth, shit," he expresses, exiting the bathroom for his bedroom.

"No, the sound of you spitting into the sink was truly erotic," you sarcastically assure him, earning an eye roll as he closed and locked his door.

"So, how do you...you know, wanna do this?" Johnny questions, laying back on his bed.

"I don't know, I'm horny, I didn't exactly google how to have sex over facetime."

"Oh, and is this your first time being horny too? You don't know what you do when you're horny?" he mockingly replies.

You bite the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from smirking.

"No...I know what I do...I just wish you were here to do it for me..."

"Yeah? And what's that? Gonna tell me?"

Your teeth catch on your bottom lip.

"I can show you...your fingers just feel so much better though," you drawl, bordering on a pleasurable whine.

Johnny couldn't describe the tone you used nor noises you made if he tried. There weren't words for them; their specific pitch his ears fine tuned to and the excellence he perceived them as. He couldn't find them anywhere else, and he didn't intend to.

Despite cumming so hard, you pout, heavy breaths coming out your nose as you roll onto your side, hair frizzy from your pillow, face flushed.

"I think I just miss you even more now," you confess. "Now I have to go pee and tidy myself back up alone."

"We don't have to hang up," Johnny states through light pants, tissue from his bedside already wiping his stomach.

"You want me to pee with you on the phone?"

Johnny shrugs, "you're usually peeing when you tell me not to fix my hair after sex."

"It's different when it's in person and you were literally just inside me."

"Don't bring your phone then, leave me in your room to return to afterwards and we can fall asleep on facetime."

"Don't you think that's tacky?"

"No," Johnny shakes his head. "Not after that. I think it's the phone sex equivalent of cuddling after sex. Aftercare and all of that."

"You're adorable," you smile in a bittersweet manner, getting up for your bathroom.