Work Text:
Elliot was just in the middle of not sleeping when the phone, in his bedroom, started ringing loudly. The noise shocked him, but he scrambled to get it, afraid to wake his mother up with the blaring noise.
“H-hello?” he said, he knew who would be on the other line, the only person who ever called this phone, but he still was skeptical about whether, or not, he was imagining things.
“Bonsoir, Elliot.”
He sighed at the familiar voice and relaxed just a little bit, Tyrell hadn’t called in a few days and Elliot had begun to worry. He deflated back down against the mattress and stared at the ceiling as Tyrell talked.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to sleep, Elliot. Do you find yourself lying awake at night?” Tyrell’s voice made Elliot’s heart jump, something was up with his tone. He sounded like he wanted something.
“What d-do you want, Tyrell?” he tried to ask in a manner that didn’t sound rude or angry, it only made him sound like he was afraid. He wasn’t.
Tyrell smirked on the other end of the line and took a deep breath, “See, there’s a problem I have, Elliot. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He leaves it at that and listens to Elliot’s breathing get heavier.
Elliot’s chest is tight with sudden desire and he doesn’t quite want to think about what Tyrell means, he’s afraid that Tyrell will see right through him. Afraid that his want will be detected, he just breathes, untrusting of his voice.
“I want you, Elliot.”
The words make Elliot’s heart drop but something deep and low in his stomach tightens and he feels the burning want just above his groin. He sucks in a breath and nods his head. “Want you,” he whispers into the phone and he can’t help but place his hand right where his dick is beginning to harden.
Tyrell, at the other end of the line, is already stroking himself to the sound of Elliot’s breathing. When Elliot’s admission is heard, he stops. The shock is only there for a second before he is smirking and speaking to Elliot again, with that voice. “Ah I see you’re giving in to your indulgences, Elliot. Would you like to indulge me?”
Elliot doesn’t have time to ask what he means, before Tyrell whispers, “Touch yourself, I want to hear you.”
Elliot’s eyes close with the command and he wrapped his trembling fingers around his boxer-clad cock and slowly began to stroke himself. He sighed in relief, his cock was aching and he hadn’t touched himself like this in weeks.
Tyrell listens to Elliot’s labored breathing on the other side of the line and he picks up where he had left off touching himself, only to find that he has gotten harder. Tyrell wanted to see Elliot, in this moment, he wanted to feel him.
“I want to hear you,” he repeated and Elliot let out the moan he had been holding in, sliding his hand inside of his boxers to touch his bare dick, beginning to pump his cock. He thought of Tyrell’s long and skinny fingers, wrapping around his cock and jerking him.
“I bet you looks so good right now, so good with your hands sliding over your cock,” Tyrell moaned into the phone, it was clear to Elliot that hearing him only turned Tyrell on more. He whined and mewled at the thought of Tyrell stroking his own cock, knowing that it was very well happening on the other side. The heels of his feet digging into the bed under him as he fucked up into his palm.
Tyrell listened to the boy on the other end of the phone and sped up his motions. His cock leaking in his hand and he just couldn’t help but tighten his grip, imagining that he was fucking into Elliot’s tight ass. “Fuck, Elliot.”
Elliot whined at his name being said and turned over in the bed, phone still in his hand. He fucked down into his hand and couldn’t help but moan Tyrell’s name, “T-tyrell, I’m close.”
“I am too,” Tyrell whines out, grinding up into his hand at the sound of Elliot speaking.
Elliot is the first to come, having not touched himself in weeks. His moan rips through the air and he fucks his hand through his orgasm.
When Tyrell comes, seconds later, he moans out Elliot’s name and his vision blurs a little.
As he hears Elliot’s breathing calming down, he smiles and looks at the mess of come and sweat he’s become. “Bonsoir, Elliot. Sleep well.”
When Tyrell hangs up, Elliot looks down at the come stained sheets and the corner of his mouth twitches up. He lays on his side so that he doesn’t touch the mess, his limbs too loose to get up and wash the sheets. For once, he falls asleep easily.