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iluvsexyvoltageguys · 5 years

Text

The Phone Call

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Lucien x Reader

Warning: NSFW

Call me tonight. After you get in bed.

You sat on the side of the bed. What did you wear for something like this? Should you just get naked? Or maybe you should put on some lingerie. Ugh, this was ridiculous. It was on the phone, it wasn’t like he could actually see you. Oh God, what if he asked what you were wearing?

You jumped when your phone started buzzing from where you had placed it on the desk, vibrating across the surface. Instinctively, you looked at it, seeing the name ‘Lucien’. You watched it bounce around, pounding against the wood top of the desk, finally stilling, only replaced by the pounding of your heart.

Of course it was him. Who else would be calling you this late at night? You had been turned on all day anticipating this moment, but now that it was actually here, your were more nervous than anything.

After a slight amount of freaking out, you grabbed your phone, calling him back. He answered on the first ring, like he had just been sitting there staring at his phone. Which he probably was, quite honestly, but you kind of loved that he didn’t wait for it to ring twice, and you weren’t sure if he didn’t care that you knew how eager he was, or if he really just couldn’t wait.

“I thought you weren’t going to call,” he said.

“I was. I was just changing.”

“Well, that’s a lovely visual,” he said, in that sexy voice of his, it was already sending tingles up your spine. You braced yourself for that 'what are you wearing’ question, looking at yourself in the mirror in the casual dress you had worn out to dinner because you couldn’t decide what to actually put on. But you were surprised when he asked, “How was your day?”

“What?” You asked, eyebrows raising despite the fact that he couldn’t see you and you cringed at the sound of your voice, knowing that it revealed your disbelief at what he was asking.

“What? I’m not allowed to ask my girlfriend how her day was?”

You couldn’t help the smile and the delicious wave of warmth that went through your body at that word. And every time he called you his girlfriend, all you could think of was that meant he was your boyfriend.

“Of course you are,” you said, starting to stumble over your words like you knew you would, “I just thought…”

You could hear him make a little noise, and you couldn’t tell if his breath was hitching in his throat or if he was trying not to laugh, “What? You thought...?” You could tell just from the sound of his voice that he had the corners of his lips turned up and was holding back a smile. “So,” he said in a sing-song voice, “How was your day? How was work?”

“Oh, just the same old stuff,” you said, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Really? Nothing interesting happened?”

“Nope,” you said.

“Did you think about me?”

“Maybeeee….” you drew out the word coyly, switching your phone to the other hand so you could open up the balcony door for a little fresh air. It was starting to feel incredibly warm in that room.

He chuckled into the phone, and it felt like he was right there, body vibrating against yours. “So, what else did you do today?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Lucien, you were with me practically all day.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wish I was with you all day. What did you do after our interview?”

“I —” you stopped, “You seriously want to hear about this?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted.

So you told him about your day, your meetings, and he asked questions and seemed quite genuinely interested. "…and then a bunch of us just went out for dinner.“ You concluded.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke again, “So did you have panties on at this dinner or….?”

You laughed, but you also took notice of how your thighs instinctively squeezed together, “Yes, yes I did. ”

“Why?” he asked innocently.

“Because I was with my co-workers!” you laughed, “I’m trying to be professional here.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to have any problem with it this morning,” he said, his voice light and teasing.

“Says the man who had their shirt off.”

“Hey, I’m pretty sure no one would complain if you had yours off, too. I’m pretty sure you liked it, anyways. Which is rather unprofessional, let me just say.”

“As if you didn’t like..” you started.

“I mean, part of me did, part of me didn’t.” He said. “You were already incredibly distracting,” he admitted, “but now it’s getting even harder to focus. You might really start impacting my workplace productivity.”

You could tell his tone was teasing, and laughed under your breath. “What are you going to do? Tell on me?”

“I’m pretty sure that I would have worse consequences for me than you,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, though you didn’t even know how that was possible, "I must admit, I’ve been having rather…impure thoughts about you.“

Goosebumps erupted all over your body, though your insides still felt completely warm. “Have you now?”

“Mhmm…” he murmured.

“What kind of thoughts?” you asked. You had been walking throughout the room as you talked, but now you walked over to the bed, swinging your legs onto it and crossing them, leaning back against the pillows.

“Let’s just say that since we haven’t actually gotten a chance to…be together yet, my imagination has been working overtime,” he said, “And now that I’ve actually has a chance to see what you look like when you cum, my latest obsession is thinking about how many different ways I can get you to look that way again.”

You jaw dropped open, pussy clenched, your knees falling apart.

“Are you still there?” Lucien asked, and you realized you hadn’t spoken for quite some time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered, running a hand through your hair, “I think my brain just short-circuited there.”

He laughed, but you could tell that he was pleased at your reaction, “Well, now you know how I feel,” he said, “Do you know how many times I’ve had to get myself off just thinking of you?”

A whimper escaped your mouth as you pictured this, his hand wrapped around his think, swollen cock, head tossed back, likely a slight blush on his cheeks and chest, probably his hair edging into his eyes, but he didn’t care because he was so close, maybe your name even falling from his lips.

“You like the thought of that?”

“Yeah,” you said, your response coming out incredibly breathy, so you cleared your throat, “Yes, very much so.”

“Have you…?” he asked.

“Umm…not yet,” you admitted, “But I’ve thought about it. A lot. And I forget to charge….something.” You were practically hitting yourself, squeezing your phone in frustration, cheeks flushed red. Why did you just say that?! Like maybe you should see him naked first before you start talking about sex toys.

“You forgot to charge what?” his voice wandered off.

“Like…” you were thumbing the fabric on your dress now, “A toy. A vibrator.”

“You have a vibrator?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yessss…” you ground out the word, trying to calm the flame on your cheeks. This was nothing to be shy or embarrassed about. It was a perfectly normal, healthy thing.

You heard him say something under his breath, followed by a shuffling sound and a bang like the phone hitting the floor. “Sorry,” he said when he seemed to have everything under control once again, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

So maybe bringing that up was not such a bad idea, after all. It felt rather satisfying to have proof that you were making him just as frazzled as he was making you.

“So do your fingers not work or…?” he asked, and you had to laugh because you were pretty sure that this afternoon’s activities had demonstrated otherwise.

“They work,” you said, still laughing just a bit, “I’m just not used to all this overtime, so I’ve been pretty tired by the time I get back home.”

“Oh,” he said, a small noise, “Are you tired now?”

“Not at all.”

“Do you -,” his voice cracked, and he cleared it, “do you want to….?”

When you didn’t answer, he mistook your silence for discomfort, “We totally don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can talk about….whatever.”

“No, I…want to,” you sighed, “I’ve just never done this before. Have you…?” you asked.

“Once,” he answered, “however, I can tell you’re going to be fantastic at it.”

You let yourself sink down into the bed, laying back on your pillows, phone clutched to your ear. It was sort of relaxing, honestly, having his voice in your ear as you laid down in bed at the end of a long day. Except for all the sexual anticipation, of course. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m so damn attracted to you that just knowing that you’re laying in bed talking to me is a huge turn-on,” he cleared his throat again, “Are you in bed?”

“Yeah,” you said, even though you were still laying on the made bed, wrapping your hand under you to start pulling the tightly tucked sheets out from under the pillow. "Are you?“

"Mhmm,” he affirmed, “Are you….relaxed?”

You laughed again, because you expecting him to ask something like if you were naked, or turned on, or touching yourself.

“Uh…no?” You questioned, taking account of your body. Not because you were unsure about how you felt, but you were unsure about just how he could expect you to be relaxed in this situation. “Because it’s not exactly relaxing to be turned on like this,” you whisper, like you didn’t want someone to overhear you, twisting your legs on the bed.

He laughed again, deep in your ear, sending those shockwaves thru your body again, which was really becoming a thing, quite honestly. And now you were realizing that you would likely have to somehow avoid hearing him laugh in public for the rest of your life, because it was really starting to do things to your body. Dangerous things. And you were pretty sure it would be frowned upon if you just leaned in and started licking his neck while you were interviewing him. And he would probably be a little sweaty, and maybe some of it would be collecting on his collarbone and…

“_____,” he said, his voice breaking you a little out of your fantasy and making you jump, taking you back to your room, bright lights around you, “What are you thinking about?”

“Your neck,” you admitted, picturing the pale skin, and what it would look like if you raked your teeth across it, maybe sucked in a couple of purple marks.

“My neck?”

It really wasn’t your fault, honestly. With your height difference, it was literally right at your eye level when you were interviewing him. And, sometimes, looking at his eyes made you lose all your words, and you certainly couldn’t look at his lips without your mouth falling open, so it was really your only option.

“Like, how mad would you be if I just leaned in and kissed it tomorrow? Instead of our usual handshake?”

“Mad? Not at all. But you might be, because I’m promising your right now I will not be held accountable for my actions if you do that.”

You were grinning, both because his tone thrilled you and because you were loving how much that was obviously affecting him. “So you’ll stop with the handshake?”

“Nope,” he said definitively, “That’s the only acceptable way I can touch you in public, and I’m not NOT touching you.” He was quiet for a moment, and then he let out this, broken, “God,” followed by “I can’t wait to feel you from the inside.”

That caused an instant throb, making you aware of just how empty you felt. He was breathing just a little bit heavier, but your whole body was so sensitive, tuned in to every detail that you picked up on it immediately. “Are you…?”

“Touching myself? A little,” he said, like he’d been caught. Like this wasn’t what the whole purpose of this phone call was, “I couldn’t help it.”

Now you were picturing him stretched out on his bed, palming at his cock through his shorts. You tried to let your eyes fall shut, swiping your hand over your chest, trying to tell your body to relax, but you couldn’t help but be hyper aware of him.

“Can you hang on one sec?” you asked, hearing him make a sound of affirmation as you set the phone back down on the bed, going immediately over to the overhead light and turning it off. You shook your hair out a little as you went over and opened the curtain on the window, just enough so that the street lights shined through, finally going over and pulling out the sheets and blankets from where they were tucked under the mattress so you could actually get under them without feeling completely mummified.

“Damnit,“ you muttered as the blanket flew up, tossing your phone from the bed onto the floor, bending down to pick it up and tossing it down onto the bed, yelling "sorry” as you slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders, unclasping your bra and letting it fall away.

“What were you doing?” he asked with a laugh when you had the phone back to your ear again.

“Fixing the bed,” you explained, as you crawled back in, tossing the blankets over your legs and settling back on the pillow, “It feels kinda….dirty, you know? Doing this.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked in a low voice that made you shiver even though you were under the covers.

“No, no,” you said softly, letting your eyes squeeze shut, thinking this was something you might have to explore a little later. It was honestly even more thrilling to know that he was in the same building as you, so close, and yet you couldn’t quite touch. It was like you could almost imagine that you could hear him through the walls rather than over the the phone. You let your hand slide into the top of your dress, squeezing your bare breast, lifting it up and out so you could push the fabric of your dress away.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Touching myself,” you answered, not quite sure how else to put it.

“Yeah? Where?”

“My breast,” you were swirling your finger around your nipple, squeezing your legs together for pressure, knowing that you really couldn’t wait much longer.

“I can’t believe I still haven’t gotten to see those tits,” he muttered, “How does it feel?”

“Good,” you moved on to the other breast, frowning when it felt a little tender, seeing those distinct finger marks, your mind shooting back to that incredibly hot moment in the closet when you had been holding on for dear life, “Holy shit, I bruised myself.”

“Hmm?”

“In the closet,” you said, “I was trying to be quiet…”

“I’m really disappointed I missed that,” he said, “But does that mean you’re usually loud?”

“I don’t…know?”

“Hmmm….” he said, low and soft, and you couldn’t believe just how much his talking - even when it wasn’t words - was affecting your body, “Guess I’ll just have to find out then.”

“I can’t…” you started, knowing full well that your neighbors might hear.

“I know, I know,” he said, “I just mean, once I get you in my bed, I don’t want you to hold back. At all. I want it all.” He sounded so intense, so direct, like he might not let you out of his bed for days, continually trying to push you over your limit.

You shuddered, and your hand was rushing down your body, pulling your dress out of the way, pushing past your panties, sinking your middle finger inside you slowly, letting out this breathy noise like a combination of relief and pleasure.

“Fuck, what are you….?”

“Fingering myself,” you pushed that finger in and out a couple of times, feeling the sensations all around your walls. You were literally so turned on that you could already feel your muscles pulsing around your digit. Reluctantly, you pulled it out, quickly kicking off your panties and getting them out of the way.

“How,” he swallowed, like he couldn’t quite contain himself enough to speak, “how wet are you?”

You swept to fingers across your entrance, collecting your juices, spreading them all over your clit, circling the bundle of nerves slowly. “Really wet,” you admitted, “I’ve been like this for days.”

“Fuck,” he muttered again, and you didn’t think you had ever heard him swear quite so much all the time you had known him, “Like even during the day? When you’re…?”

“I can’t help it,” you admitted.

“Fuck, you’ve been holding it together so well. Once you get in my bed, I’m going to fuck you until you’ve got nothing left.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, trying to sound innocent when really you were failing.

“Hell yes it is.” He was panting softly in your ear, letting out little groans every know and then like he couldn’t seem to contain them. And it was crazy hot.

“Are you…touching yourself?” you asked.

“Yeah…I’m trying not to cum,” he sort of laughed, “Fuck, I’m so hard for you, _____.”

You were shuffling around on the bed, rubbing your clit harder, trying to get yourself closer.

“Where are your fingers?” He asked.

“My clit.”

“Find your g-spot for me,” he commanded, “Put your phone on speaker.”

You did as he asked, setting it on the bed next to you, keeping up your assault against your clit, sinking two fingers into yourself and curving them upwards, letting out a moan that was a little louder than you intended.

“Yeah, right there, yeah? How’s it feel?” He said.

“Good, but I want, god, I want more.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Your fingers, your cock,” you clenched once more, just imagining him filling you, “your mouth.”

“You can have it.”

You were breathing heavy by now, thrashing around on the bed, pushing your hips against your hand. “I’m so….I’m so…” you said.

“Yeah, let go, make yourself feel good.”

You shut your eyes, letting yourself escape in the sensations, listening to his heavy breathing and groans, picturing him above you, hot skin against yours, what the look in his eyes would be, how he would grin at you from between your legs, or bury his head in your neck as he came.

“Ah…ah…ah,” little high pitched noises were coming from your mouth and you recognized how ridiculous they sounded, but you didn’t care, because you were so close, and from the noises coming out of the phone, he was right behind you.

With a gasp, your back arched up off the bed, mouth hanging open and a low “ohhhhh…” escaping as your body reached its peak.

“Fuck yeah,” you could hear Lucien from the phone, a satisfied groan coming from his mouth, and it only made you go harder, drawing out your pleasure that much longer.

Eventually, your body released, dropping back onto the bed. All that you could hear was both of you trying to regain your breathing, running your hands all over your skin and wishing he was there right next to you.

“So…” Lucien said after some time, his voice light and teasing, “how do you feel?”

You laughed under your breath, your body lose and languid after your orgasm, “Pretty good.”

“Next time,” he said, like he was setting a firm expectation, “I’m going to make you feel even better.”

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