Since the day they met, Owen’s restraint has been an exciting foil to Caleb’s unruly lack of discipline. Now established lovers, they can’t deny how welcome that balance is in their lives. Two very different men, both strong-willed—it shouldn’t work between them, but it does! Owen’s steady world is rocked by Caleb’s boldness, and Caleb finds a haven in return. Now they share their lives, a strong need for each other and a highly developed love of play.
On this weary night at the end of a working week, they’re caught in traffic on opposite sides of town. They’ll have to wait until the journey’s over to meet up and enjoy the evening together.
Or will they?
Caleb decides he won’t wait to play, and he’ll play as dirty as he dares—or as much as they can handle over the phone.
This story is 10,000 words in length.
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© Clare London
Caleb watched other vehicle headlamps arc across the side window of his car, then swoop away in the opposite direction. He relaxed a little in his seat and lifted one hand off the steering wheel.
“Caleb?” Owen’s voice had that sharp edge again, sending welcome goose bumps down Caleb’s flesh. “What do you mean by that?”
“Didn’t I say? I don’t like waiting. I’m horny now.”
Owen made the tutting sound Caleb also knew well. “So surprise me. Not. But there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m sitting in a cold, damp train carriage and you’re trapped in traffic.” He went silent for a moment, then when Caleb didn’t reply, he snapped again, “Caleb?”
Caleb sighed happily. In complete contrast to his lover, he felt increasingly relaxed. The car heater was on and the windows were slightly steamed. He was protected from the foul weather outside, also the noise and hassle of city life. Work had been tedious this week, but now it was over for another couple of days. Okay, so Owen was still miles away, but Caleb had an intriguing alternative. His guy’s voice was pitched at just the right level, irritated yet curious, too. Just at that cusp between fury and fascination. Could go either way, Caleb knew from experience. That was what made the game all the more delicious. He felt…yeah. Provocative.
“Don’t,” came Owen’s voice. He sounded apprehensive.
“Don’t what?” Caleb smiled even more broadly. He liked apprehension in a man, too. It certainly had its place in foreplay. “What’s up? Like you say, there’s nothing we can do about it. Not we, anyway.”
Owen made a soft, strangled noise.
Caleb leaned around the steering column to be nearer the phone, dropping his voice to an almost-whisper. “I can always entertain myself, of course. Not as good as lying spread out and naked on the lounge carpet, my breath heaving, my knees drawn up to my belly and your slicked fingers sliding in and out of me.” He sighed, rather theatrically. “But a guy’s got to make the best of a situation.”
Caleb didn’t really want to be distracted by the strained tone of Owen’s voice. All he wanted to concentrate on was how deep it was, how rich. That voice. His pants seemed to be getting tighter by the second. Owen’s protests—though Caleb couldn’t recall any of them ever being significant—did that to him every time. He rubbed his free hand gently over his lap, caressing the bulge there. “I’m very hot tonight,” he murmured. “Very thick.”
Owen cursed under his breath, but Caleb caught most of the words he used. Owen had an impressively imaginative vocabulary when he chose to swear. Sounded like he touched on plenty of things that were currently coloring Caleb’s own imagination.
“Dammit, Caleb, you’re in the car. Have you pulled over?”
Caleb let out a slow, heavy breath, making sure the phone would pick up the noise. “Yeah. And I’ve pulled out. Didn’t you hear my zipper?”
Owen’s breath made a sharp, gasping sound.
Works for me. Caleb slipped his hand inside his open fly and ran possessive fingers along the length of his cock, swelling inside his briefs. “I’m hot. Way too hot. Lucky I wore the thin, white shirt today. You know the one? It’s loose. I can reach up under it and…soothe myself.” He impatiently flipped open the lower buttons on his shirt and slid his other hand up his chest to his nipple. It was pebbled already, and not from remembrance of the cold weather outside. He pinched it between his finger and thumb and rolled it, hard. Made him wince, but in that good kind of way. “Ouch.”
“What are you doing?”
Caleb grinned, though of course Owen couldn’t see it. “I’m just touching.”
“Uh-huh.” He could hear Owen’s hesitation; could hear the catch in his breath when surrender started to win over self-possession. That exact moment was as sweet as any pie they’d ever shared since that first night.