Page 96 of Sapphire Spring

“Dirty boy,” Mason whispered.

“Yourdirty boy,” Naser whispered back.

The simple three words carried an electrical charge, sendingthe wordMinemineminerocketing through Mason’s brain. Mason’s cock was rising again.

“So, uh, what should I not be jealous of?”

“Something inside me,” Naser said between sharp littlegasps. “A toy. But I’m pretending it’s you… It’s almost as big. Not quite.”

Breathless suddenly, Mason rose to his feet. The thoughtthat his own voice had turned Naser on so much the guy was now working a fatdildo into himself had Mason stroking his own cock again as it filled.

“Yeah?” Mason asked. “Are you fucking yourself while youthink about me?”

“So many times… Done it so many times, thinking about you.”

“You’re going to get the real thing as soon as you’reready.”

Silence followed, then more gasps. For a second, he thoughtNaser might be about to come, then he broke the silence.

“Want your hands on my throat.” There was desire in Naser’svoice, but his words also had the tense energy of a quick confession, one thatwas easier to make when they weren’t face to face. One that made the phone callsomehow more intimate, safer. “When you fuck me, I want your hands on mythroat.”

Mason felt hunger and elation, as if he was being entrustedwith the keys to Naser’s body.

“Yeah? You want me to squeeze?” He’d tried to make it soundpornyand hot, but the question was a serious one, and hefought the urge to grab a pen and paper and start taking notes. He keptlanguidly stroking his cock instead, his balls jerking every time Naser let outa high, sharp gasp that indicated the toy he was using had passed over someinner pleasure zone.

“Not too hard,” Naser answered. “It’s not… Not aboutchoking. It’s about holding me. Making me be still.Seeingme whileyou…fuckme. Not letting me get away.”

“I’ll never let you get away. If that’s what you want.”

“I want you. Inside me. Want you inside me. Don’t think…just'causeI’m afraid that I don’t want you inside me.”He’d needed to hear this. Desperately. Every few hours since Saturday, he’dfallen prey to the fear that Naser’s wariness about giving his body entirelyconcealed a gulf they might never cross.

“I only want to hurt you the way you want to be hurt,” Masonwhispered.

Naser’s orgasms were the opposite of Mason’s—nonverbal,primal wails that seemed to come from the core of his soul. They sounded likepleas for mercy, as if they contained more pleasure than Naser could bear. Thisone was the loudest, by far. The purity of it—so unrefined and unedited comparedto everything else that came out of such a constantly poised man—had Masonrocketing toward a second orgasm faster than he’d ever expected. And this time,his eruption was silent save for a few sharp grunts that were lost to Naser’swail. Like his bliss was tangled up in the sound of Naser’s.

How was it possible that physical distance, the inability tosee each other, could somehow produce a connection that felt deeper?

“Jesus,” Naser whispered. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That was loud.”

“It was perfect. You made me come again.”

“Seriously?” Naser was gasping for breath. “Oh, hold on…”Naser let out a sharp grunt. No doubt, he was easing the toy out of himself,and somehow this routine little bit of business felt as delightfully debauchedas everything else they’d done that evening.

“So maybe some of that was easier to say on the phone,”Mason offered.

“The hands on my throat thing, you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I’m still…”

“I’m listening.”

“I still worry maybe the first night was too much, too soon.”

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