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Michael is sitting on his bed, laptop propped up, smiling at the sight of David's relaxed face on the screen. The warmth of his recent shower still clings to his skin, the towel wrapped around his hips a meager barrier between him and the chill of the room. They'd been catching up for a bit, talking about what they did over the weekend, but the conversation had started to lag into comfortable silences. Michael's eyes drift over the scruff on David's jaw, his mussed-up hair and the contented expression on his face, as if the long distance between them doesn't bother him.
A subtle tingle creeps into his lower abdomen as his mind slips back to the gift he sent David a while ago – a remote-controlled vibrator. David had mentioned experimenting with it, and Michael's curiosity is getting the better of him. Has David charged it, anticipating tonight's call? Wouldn't that be something? A thrill courses through him as he reaches for his phone.
David's voice cut through his thoughts. “What's going on in that Welsh head of yours, Michael?”
Michael's "nothing" is a blatant lie. He opens the app connected to the device, expecting it to be inactive. His heart skips a beat as the app flickers to life, showing a full battery and an established connection.
Michael searches David's face for a sign - any sign - that he might be wearing the toy. David's raised eyebrows are the only hint. Michael takes that as his cue, and, before he can second-guess, he decides to send a discreet vibration pattern to the device.
David's breath hitches instantly. “Oh, you bastard."
Michael's eyes lock onto the screen, processing the surprise. He can't believe it - David's actually wearing the toy, no discussion, no warning, quietly hoping that Michael would take the lead. Filthy, beautiful David.
"You are wearing it," Michael says, awe-struck. "You are actually wearing it."
David's face twists in a mix of pleasure and mock annoyance. "Shut up."
Michael's blood rushes south, a sense of power and control washing over him. He'd been thinking about using the toy to spice up their video calls, but he can't believe David's boldness, can't believe he actually did this.
“We were having such a lovely conversation, and now I'm not sure if we'll ever get back to that," Michael says with feigned nonchalance, struggling to maintain his composure.
“I can talk,” David retorts.
He’s right. Talking isn’t entirely off the table.
“Alright, go on. How's your day been? Anything... eventful?"
David's words spill out in a rush. "Normal. Boring. Picked up the kids, went shopping... Georgia took them to a sleepover." His hips jerk, and he swallows hard.
"So, I'm guessing with the kids out of the house, you thought this was the perfect opportunity to, erm, accessorize?" Michael asks, trying to keep his tone light and teasing.
"Evidently."
Michael's heart skips another beat at the admission. He's amazed at how brazen David's being, and it's only fueling his own excitement.
"And when were you planning on telling me?"
"I wasn't," David says. "I was just hoping you'd notice eventually."
"Well, I did."
Michael increases the vibration speed, and David makes a sound that he muffles with his hand.
“Don’t turn it up too much, you bastard, I’ll come before we’ve had our chat.”
“I'll do whatever I please," Michael says stoically.
The indifference is all an act– he's consumed by David's spread-eagled form, the outline of his cock pressing against his pants, the toy's tormenting hum as it teases his prostate.
His own cock twitches, straining against the towel wrapped around his hips. He shifts the toy's speed higher, then higher again. David's hips jerk, his body arching up and pressing back down, each movement a tiny surrender.
“You’re not talking,” Michael points out.
David forces the words out between strained gasps. "H-how — am I — supposed to — concentrate if you keep turning it up like that?"
Michael flicks the toy up to the highest speed. “You decided to wear the bloody thing, you can do as I say and talk while I toy with you.”
“Bastard,” David curses into the pillow, and Michael laughs. His own chest is rising and falling too fast, the towel on his hips tented from how hard he’s getting. “Bastard, bastard, bastard —”
Michael lets the word run on until it fades into moans and then he interrupts. “Talk to me and I’ll turn it down a bit.”
David groans, and he manages words a moment later, though the effort is obvious on his face. “What the — Christ, what do you want me to say?”
As promised, Michael reduces the speed of the toy slightly, allowing David to salvage a shred of dignity. The tension in David's body eases ever so slightly, and his eyes lock onto Michael's, a moment of vulnerability passing between them.
Michael leans in. "I love watching you like this. So open, so vulnerable. It's like I can see right through to your soul."
David's gaze drifts away. "You know, I was really nervous about wearing this thing tonight," he says quietly. "I wasn't sure if you'd even notice, or if you'd just laugh at me."
Michael's smile falters. "Why would I laugh at you?"
David shrugs, his shoulders barely moving. "I don't know. I just feel a bit silly, I guess. Like I'm trying too hard to be sexy or something."
"You’re not silly, David," Michael says. A wicked grin spreads across his face, and he adds, "And I think you're doing a fantastic job of being sexy right now."
David's cheeks flush, but Michael's words seem to relax him.
That is, until Michael's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Now, how about you continue your description of the lovely day you've been having?" The toy hums back to life, and David's breath stutters in response. He tries to speak, but his words come out in gasps, his hips twitching as the vibrations tease his prostate.
“You’re an evil man,” he manages to choke out. "It's — just an average day — my kid — spilled juice —" The toy's vibrations seemed to be getting stronger, and David's hips twitched involuntarily.
Michael leans back, enjoying David's struggle to maintain a conversation. "You're not very good at this, are you?" he teases.
David grits his teeth, determined to keep talking. "I — bought new cereal —" But his words trail off as the toy hit his prostate, sending a wave of pleasure through his body. He bites down on the pillow, his hips moving in time with the vibrations.
Michael raises an eyebrow. "You still sound like you're about to come in your pants, mate."
“Bugger off,” David says, but he’s struggling to form his words. The muscles of his ass ripple and clench; he’s getting close, and both of them know it. Michael turns down the toy to medium just to be sure.
“You said you wanted to chat."
David makes a noise that's half-laughter, half-whimper. “Maybe I’ve decided you’re a complete tool and I’d rather come than talk to you, actually.”
“Then I’ll have to turn the toy off,” Michael says, as if it’s a casual, natural consequence.
David jerks his head up, eyes wide with alarm. “You’re not fucking serious. You aren’t actually going to turn it off.”
“You’ve got a pretty mouth,” Michael says, and flicks the toys speed up again. The resulting sound is nearly pornographic, a strangled little gasp that makes blood flow straight to his cock. “Can’t it do more than whinge and moan?”
“Bastard — you bloody bastard, Christ, that’s —” David’s hips jerk again, and Michael can feel the man’s frustration, the way his control is slipping, the way he’s desperate to come. “Alright, what — Christ — what do you want me to say?”
“I already told you,” Michael tells him, but it’s difficult to make his voice sound stern. “You went shopping, right? And you said your kid spilled juice.”
“Yeah,” David manages, his voice broken as he gasps for breath. Michael is rather impressed by the struggle to maintain composure. As David's hips shift against the bed, his fingers grasp at the sheets like they're the only thing anchoring him to reality.
“We got juice, and the little bastard, he spilled it everywhere, and it's so bloody sticky... I — Christ — we're still finding it everywhere, we keep finding more.”
Michael's expression remains calm, but his hand moves, easing off the toy speed. “And what sort of cereal did you buy?” he asks, his voice light and casual.
“Muesli.” David is breathing as if he’s just run several laps around a field. “The — God, I’m gonna lose this if you — keep — Christ —”
Michael, feeling merciful, lets the speed drop back down to a gentle hum, and David manages to keep going.
“Found something high in fibre.”
Michael keeps his voice light, as if he isn’t watching the man he loves struggle with desperation to not come. “Good for your health,” he says, his voice still casual. “Or was it for the kids?”
“For me,” David says, and that takes some of the self-control out of his voice, though his hips are still shifting, moving like they’re searching for more, more stimulation, more of the way the toy shifts inside him.
“Georgia and the kids don’t like muesli, they’d rather eat sweets for breakfast.”
“And you’d let them? That’s hardly good parenting, David.”
David's sass flickers to life for a moment. “They’re still alive, aren’t they?”
Michael's smile grows as he clicks the toy up another notch, and another. David's moan is instant, his body arching off the bed as he tries to press himself down onto the toy.
“God, you’re sensitive today,” Michael teases, “Got all worked up before you even got on the phone?”
David's face contorts in a mixture of pleasure and frustration as he pants, “No, I was — just — normal.” His head drops down to rest against the pillow, muffling his voice. “I was fine, I was perfectly — was just sitting in bed, waiting for you.”
“Sitting in bed, were you?” Michael says, his fingers hovering over the controls as he wonders how long it'd take to get David begging for it – really begging. That’s the part of the game they’ve never tried.
David's voice is a bit stifled, but his words come out in a rush. “Just waiting, and — God — trying to keep myself from starting to touch before you rang, because I knew you'd be like this, and you'd —Christ, you'd not let me get off without a fight.”
His hips jerk, and he bites down on the pillow, trying to stifle the sounds that Michael wants to hear. He’s close, Michael can tell, has been able to tell for a while.
Michael's eyes gleam with amusement. “You want to touch yourself now, don’t you?” His fingers hover over the controls, ready to increase the stimulation. “Like you would’ve if I hadn't been onto your little secret. You're gagging for it, aren't you?”
David's body gives a little jerk of protest. “Yes, yes I am, Christ, I want — I want —” He trails off, his voice cracking.
The man sounds downright desperate, and even in a video call, it’s a gorgeous thing to hear. Michael thinks he could get off on the sound of David’s voice alone. He leans in, his voice taking on an innocently curious tone. “You want what?”
David's head lifts, and a half-strangled noise comes from the back of his throat as he tries to keep the pillow from muffling his voice. “I want to come,” he admits, the words nearly a whine, frustrated and desperate. His eyes lock onto Michael's, pleading. “I — God, I want to come, so bad.”
“How bad do you want it, David?” Michael asks, his tone lighter, encouraging, like he’s actually considering giving in and letting the poor man come.
David's hips jerk, another frustrated movement that seems desperate even with the limited number of ways he can actually move. “Unbearably bad,” he manages. “I — I'm so close, Michael, I can't — it's so —”
“I know, darling. I know. You’re so close. You’re so close you can practically taste it.”
“Yes, yes, I can.” David's voice is laced with a note of real begging, like he's really earned it to get the release he's been aching for. “Can — can I, Michael, Christ, can I please —” he says, his eyes locked onto Michael's.
Michael's throat tightens at the sound of David's begging. It's a sound that he loves, a sound that makes him want to move forward in time, to skip right over this video call and find himself in bed with David.
“Can you what?” Michael asks, his voice low and husky. He moves the toy to its highest setting. “Can you come? Is that what you’re asking, darling?”
“Yes, yes, Christ, please,” David begs, body straining, his hips thrusting upwards. “Please please please, let me come, I need to — I’m so bloody close, I’m so close, let me — fuck, please, let me — please —”
"On one condition,” Michael says. His own voice nearly breaks a bit, his own self control wavering just from the way the other man sounds. It’s obscene, how desperate he sounds, and if it weren’t for his own determination, he’d let him come already.
David's words have deteriorated into a broken and shattered mess, every word interrupted by a gasp or a moan. “Please — Christ — whatever you want, I’ll do — I just need to — god, I’m so close —” His muscles are straining, as if trying to will himself over the edge.
Michael's determination wavers for a moment. But he steels himself, clicking the toy off with the remote. The effect is immediate. David lets out a gasp of protest and frustration, his hips jerking up as if trying to regain the sensation that’s no longer present.
“Christ, Michael — that’s — that’s not fair —” David pants, and he sounds strangled. He looks like he's on the verge of collapse, his body trembling with unfulfilled need. “You bastard, you filthy, cruel — ah, God — ”
“Oh, did you want to come, darling?” Michael asks, doing his best to sound as condescending as possible. His chest feels too tight, both at the way David had sounded and at the realization of what he’s just done.
“Of course I wanted to come,” David manages. “Jesus — God, c’mon, don’t do this to me, you sadistic fucking prick.”
“Begging and cursing at me like a little tart." Michael's voice drips with venom. “Maybe I should just leave you like this, love. Maybe that's exactly what you need. Maybe I’d even like seeing you like this.”
David's eyes widen in panic and his pleas grow more desperate. “Michael, no, you — you can't — please, god, I’ll do anything, just let me —” his voice breaks, and he looks as if he might crack in two. “Please, have a heart, please, please — ”
“I thought you weren’t going to come until I said you could, anyway, right?” Michael says, his voice still carrying that intentionally condescending tone.
David's voice falters as the realization hits, that Michael's not going to give in just yet, that he hasn't yet finished this game. “Christ — you’re going to — you’re not going to let me come, are you?”
“Not until you’ve earned it,” Michael says, and he can’t help the way he watches David’s reaction, the way his hips give another frustrated little jerk. His control is slipping, and he’s tempted to give in.
“Earned it,” David says, clearly still trying to regain his control. He’s not going to beg again, not yet. “Bloody hell, Michael, how — how am I supposed to earn it?”
“Oh, that’s simple, love,” Michael says, and his voice stays as smug as possible. He moves to lay down, keeping the camera in place so David can still see what he’s doing. “You’ve just got to watch me.”
“Watch you?” David inquires, his voice tense. He observes as Michael adjusts, propping the laptop on the nightstand.
“That’s all, sweetheart,” Michael confirms, attempting a coolly condescending tone but struggling. “Don’t touch yourself. Just watch.”
“What if I touched myself anyway?” David asks, growing defiant. He’s clearly struggling to keep in control, and he looks like he’s about to snap, like he’s right on the edge of giving in and taking matters into his own hands. “I don’t have to do what you say —”
Michael reaches down to wrap a hand loose around his own cock. “You’d never be so disobedient,” he teases. “You’re too good for that, David. You’ll just take what I’m giving you, be a good darling and watch.”
He lets his thumb pass over the tip of his own cock, and it takes a substantial amount of control to keep his voice sounding calm, to keep from letting the man see how this is affecting him.
“Won’t you, David?”
David looks like he’s trying to tear himself in two. But then he nods, a small nod of submission. “Yes. Yes, I can watch. I’ll be good.”
“Such a good boy,” Michael says, and he lets a note of praise slip into his voice now, for having won the game for now.
“God, just — just shut up and do whatever you’re going to do,” David says, and he sounds even more strained now, like he’s struggling even more with the fact that he’s not allowed to touch.
Michael’s voice is suddenly commanding, firm. “You’re watching me. And you are not going to touch yourself. Understand?”
“Yes — yes, I understand,” David manages, and he looks like he’s in physical pain from straining himself. His hips are shifting again, little desperate movements like he has no control over them, like the muscles have just given up on him.
“Good boy,” Michael says, and the praise comes out even more earnest this time. He’s watching David’s reactions in the camera, struggling so hard to be good, a beautiful thing to watch.
Michael moans softly. “Christ, I’ve been craving this all day,” he says, letting his voice sound just a bit strained, just enough to let David know that this is affecting him.
“Ever since I saw you — ever since I saw how badly you wanted this,” he continues, and he lets a thumb pass over his own tip again, just to try to coax another sound out. “I wanted to touch myself so bad, David — wanted you to watch me —”
He lets his head fall back a bit, his eyes closing for a moment. The thought of David watching is nearly enough to break his composure all on its own.
“God, darling, it feels so good, can you see it, can you see how good it feels?”
“Yes — God, yes, I can see,” David says, and he sounds broken, wrecked, desperate. His voice is coming out in a nearly constant stream of moans and pleas, even without touching himself, without being touched. “Please — please tell me what it feels like —”
“It feels bloody amazing.” Michael lets himself lose a little bit more control, the sound of David’s voice too much to resist. “Feels so good darling, so good, I’m so close already — your voice, hearing you begging, god, it’s making it feel so —”
He’s starting to lose the ability to use his words, to form coherent sentences with the way he’s feeling and the way it’s affecting him. He’s been able to last this long, but it’s starting to sink in just how close he is himself. “God — I need —”
“You need what?” David all but whimpers, and his hips are shifting in time with Michael’s, even though he’s not being touched, just from being so close to orgasm. “What do you need, Michael, love — what do you —”
It’s too much, too much, seeing the man so desperate, hearing him, even though it’s only through video call.
“God — you — I need you,” Michael gasps, and his hand moves a little more intently now, faster, like it’s out of his control. “God, David, I need you here, I need you here, with me, Christ —”
“I am here, I am,” David insists, and his voice sounds almost frantic. He’s nearly on the verge of tears from the need, the desperation to come, to be touched.
“No, you’re not, you’re not here — “Michael says, and it’s not a refusal of the fact — it’s an expression of his own frustration, that David’s not actually present, that it’s only a screen and a video call between them. “ — you’re not, and I need you here, I need you with me —”
“Wish I was. Wish I was there, wish it was my hand on you instead, I — God, I can’t stand it, I need to touch you —”
Michael’s voice chokes off at that, and he doesn’t make it another minute under such intense begging, not from the man he loves. He comes suddenly, a burst of white over his stomach, before he’s collapsing back against the mattress, his chest rising and falling with his panting.
David’s still begging, still pleading, even though Michael’s finished. “Please, Michael, I need to — Christ, c’mon, please — I need to come, Michael, please, I can’t — I — god, I can’t take this anymore — please —”
“Christ, yes, alright, darling —” his voice is shaky, a little breathless, but his words are softer now. “You’ve been so good for me, love, and you’ve earned it —”
He reaches for the remote, clicking the toy on once again. “But you don’t touch yourself, alright?”
David nearly whimpers the words as soon as the vibrations start up. “Yes — yes, I won’t —” his voice sounds strangled again, “God — thank you, thank you —”
Michael lets a moment pass, just listening for a little while, just taking in the sounds of David’s moans and gasps over the line.
“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart? That’s all you’ve wanted, isn’t it?”
“God, yes, yes, thank you, thank you.” For a few long moments, all David can do is moan and breathe and struggle to keep himself from coming on the spot, because if he does it too fast, Michael will stop again. “Feels — Christ — I need it — I need this —”
Michael watches the video call intently, watching the way David’s body reacts.
“God, you look perfect like this,” he muses. “Just like this, a lovely, moaning mess, all just for me, because I say you can be. So good for me, darling, so good —”
“Yes, just for you — just for you —” David’s voice is coming out in little broken moans. “Please — please, god, don’t turn it off, let me come — god, I —”
“Go on, then, love. You can come, you’ve earned it, you’ve been so good,” Michael says, and he’s doing his best to sound gentle, despite his own ragged breathing and his exhausted, spent body. “Come for me, darling. Let go—“
“Ah, god, yes!” David shouts out like a prayer, and his head’s falling back, his eyes rolling shut, his lips parted and his tongue tracing his lower lip like he’s starved. His legs are shaking, and his hips twitching up against nothingness, and there’s sweat all down his back, his neck, his chest.
It’s a brutal climax that would have echoed down the hallway if David had the breath to scream. Michael watches it all, almost envious, but so satisfied, oh so satisfied. David is shivering, now, shaking and quaking a little in the aftermath, and he looks so sweet, the front of his trousers dark and damp now. The toy’s still buzzing against him, no doubt overstimulating as hell.
“Turn it off, please, oh, god, I can’t — “ David gasps out, and he’s a picture of perfect debauchery, a picture that belongs in a museum. “Christ, Michael, I’m serious, I’ve — please, ah, god, please…“
David is almost sobbing again, overstimulated beyond belief. He desperately writhes against the overstimulating toy while pleading for it to be turned off.
Michael grins, and instead switches the toy to a very slow, very gentle pulse. “Just one more, love, just for me. Think you can manage, hmm?”
David keens, high and desperate and strangled, and it’s one of the hottest things Michael has ever heard. His body shudders uncontrollably, and his legs are spreading wider on their own, his body responding to the relentless stimulation of the toy even as he fights against it. It’s perfect, and damn near sinful.
There’s no mercy in Michael, today, as he watches his sweetheart struggle, overstimulating himself into tears.
“You can, just one more, love,” he says again, and his voice is low, almost dark. “You’re going to be such a good boy, take just one more for me —“
David’s sobbing now, shaking and writhing, his hips moving and then jerking back away from the toy and then up into it again. It’s a dance, an utterly depraved and beautiful dance.
“Ah — ah — I can’t —“ he repeats over and over, his words barely coherent. “I can’t — can’t —“
“Yes, you can, darling, I know you can,” Michael says, and he’s so close to nearly purring. “Such a good boy, taking it for me so nicely, just one more and then I’ll give you a break, you can do it —“
David is a wreck, tears streaming down his cheeks, his muscles taut and rippling and shuddering all at once. He’s letting out little broken, strangled moans and gasps with every breath he takes, the sound almost obscene. He still looks beautiful, though, god, so beautiful.
“Ahah — ah — Michael — please — “ David pleads again, sobbing and shaking.
“You’re so close, love, you’re right there, just a little more, just one more and I’ll stop it, just one more, do it for me, you’re such a good boy, so beautiful —“
Michael is practically cooing now, completely taken with watching David breaking down so beautifully. He never wants this moment to end, but god, he knows the man can’t take much more.
David is barely aware of Michael's words and mindlessly rocks against the toy, searching for just a bit more and then sobbing when he can’t take it, when it’s overwhelming, but he’s going to take it because Michael’s told him to. The tears are running down his cheeks, now, thick and fast, the only sign of his exhaustion and surrender, but he’s not fought it. He’s let go. That’s perfect.
“Go on, love,” Michael nearly cooes again. “It’s alright, you can do it, you’ve been so good, you can come, just one more time —“
And on the last word, he turns the toy up to the maximum setting, and that’s all it takes for David to go shuddering and jerking and crying out, wordless, helpless. His erratic hip movements lack rhythm, driven solely by the desperate search for release. He’s so lost, and Michael is utterly in love.
It’s with only a few more moments of writhing and shuddering and sobbing that David comes for the second time. He cries out, louder this time, and his whole body is almost taut like a bowstring, his muscles flexed, every line and angle and feature perfect and beautiful in this moment. It’s another masterpiece, lovely and obscene and perfect, all for Michael.
He’s still shaking, afterwards, almost collapsing forward into the pillow. He looks boneless and completely wrecked, and still so beautiful that Michael struggles to breathe. He switches the toy off now, and he just keeps murmuring soft, sweet praises to the man, even as he’s still coming down.
“That’s it, darling, that was so good, you did so well, you were so perfect, such a good boy for me, god, you were so good —“ He’s nearly babbling, his own heartbeat still thrumming in his own ears. “So perfect, you did so well, god, I love you —“
David whimpers softly, breath shaky, sweat-covered skin quivering. But he also responds to Michael's praise with relieved sounds, utterly vulnerable.
“That was so good, love, you were absolutely perfect,” Michael says again, like a mantra, trying to soothe the man. “Can you look at the camera for me love? Let me see your face, can you do that for me?”
David moans softly at the request, but he obliges, picking up his head and looking at the camera. His eyes are still a little blurry and dazed, but he has the dopiest and sweetest smile on his face.
“My darling,” Michael says, and his voice is just pure fondness. “God, look at you, so beautiful. You did so well, love, so good for me. You’re so good, such a good boy —“
He can feel himself almost choking up, seeing the man he loves like this, seeing the beauty in his vulnerability. “God, I love you so much.”
The man on the other end of the camera is still shivering, trying to catch his breath, struggling through the overstimulation. He lets out a soft, shaky moan, before responding.
“Christ. I don’t think I’ll walk right for a week. And I love you too, you bastard.”
Michael can’t help but grin and chuckle at that, because it’s so typically David, to be snarky and witty even after being completely undone.
“Good,” he purrs, and his voice is satisfied. “You look a proper mess. Absolutely ravished.”
David mutters “shut it” but smiles softly, dazed and pleased. He takes deep breaths, then slowly moves his muscles for the first time in a good long while.
“Bloody hell, I can’t remember the last time I was this out of it. God, that was intense.”
“Only the best for you,” Michael says, and if it sounds a little smug, well, he thinks he’s earned that right.