RPS fic: Wish You Were Here
Title: Wish You Were Here
Pairing or Characters: Noel/Julian
Summary: While on tour with IAMX, Noel gives Julian a call . . .
Word Count: 1,273
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Phone sex?
Disclaimer: No ownership is implied, no profit made, and no offense intended.
Author’s Notes: I should probably acknowledge themogwai, whose Challenge #21 fic, was the unwitting inspiration for this one. The two stories don’t have much in common in terms of theme, but the line “Even when you both spin off, the return is inevitable as day to night” is what got me started here, so-credit where it’s due. Also, all information about the IAMX tour is totally of my own imagining. All comments and criticism are greatly welcome.
Noel calls him from New York, breathless with excitement. “Guess what time it is!”
In London, Julian glances over to see that it is five in the morning, the edge of day. The air outside his bedroom window is blue, the fragile half-light of dawn. In New York, it is midnight, and Julian imagines the city dark and shining.
“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Noel says, before Julian can reply. “Night where I am, morning where you are. I feel like a time-traveler. Tell me the news from the future.”
Noel’s voice does not sound distant at all, not in time or space. It sounds as if he is lying right next to him, his lips a phantom pressure on the shell of Julian’s ear. “Dunno, I’ve been sleeping through it.”
Noel chuckles. “You’re no fun.”
He clears his throat and rolls over onto his side, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “How was your flight?”
“Fine, we just checked into the hotel.”
“Hm.”
“You sound tired. I should let you go.”
“No, it’s all right.” He’s glad to hear Noel’s voice. Noel is his left half, the part of his body where his heart is housed. He doesn’t mind being separated for a little while, but whenever he hears Noel’s voice, it’s a little like coming home.
It doesn’t bother Julian, how easily Noel can be tempted away. He’s happy for Noel, living out the rock star dream on tour in America. That doesn’t change anything, not really. Noel is the arc of the sun. He burns a bright course through the sky at an impossible height, disappearing behind the ever-retreating line of the horizon. But no matter what happens, no matter how long the night, Julian knows Noel will always come back around, in time.
“What’re you thinking about?” Noel asks, and Julian realizes they have been hanging on the line in silence for some time now.
“You,” he replies truthfully.
“Oh, really? You dirty boy.”
He chuckles. “Not like that, you berk.”
“Go on, then. What am I wearing?”
The suggestion causes a warm tide spreads through his stomach. His throat feels dry. “Dunno.”
“I’ll tell you, then, shall I?” Noel’s voice is sultry but teasing, drawing Julian in and mocking him when he feels the pull. There is a moment’s pause, and the sound of shuffling cloth. “I’ve got my vest on, and jeans, and I’ve just taken my boots off.”
“Mm.” He can see Noel clearly, seated on the bed in the vacant, clear white hotel room, his long, lean torso, his naked feet poised above the cheap carpet.
“And what are you wearing?” Noel muses. Then he answers his own question: “Nothing, probably. I love that. Makes waking up that much better.”
Julian smiles, despite himself. He, too, enjoys waking up next to Noel, their warm, bare limbs entangled. He shivers a little, thinking of the slide of one of Noel’s thighs between his own.
He is not sure what Noel hears, some quickened intake of breath, or maybe desire travels over telephone wires the same as sound, but something causes Noel to say in a suspicious tone, “Are you wanking over there?”
He laughs quietly. “No.”
Noel falls silent. When he speaks, it is to say, “Maybe you should.”
For a moment, Julian cannot breathe. “What?”
“Touch yourself.”
Julian hesitates. He lies still in bed, listening to Noel’s breathing in New York.
“I want to hear you do it.” The laughter is gone from Noel’s voice, replaced by something low and rough and covetous. Julian cannot help losing himself in the sound of it.
He slides his free hand down under the duvet, and takes hold of his cock, which is already half-hard in anticipation. He strokes himself lazily, and sighs as a slow knot of desire uncurls itself through him.
“That’s it,” Noel says. “Not too fast. I want to make this last.”
Julian almost makes a joke, but can’t quite find the words. Instead, he says, “Take your time.”
“Miss me?” Noel asks, coy.
Julian does, of course.
Noel continues to talk. “What would you want me to do to you if you were here right now?”
He wishes he could feel Noel’s hot mouth on him, his clever fingers slipping over his thighs, the rasp of Noel’s cheek against his throat. Now more than ever, with Noel so far away, he wants to grasp Noel’s slender arms until they bruise, to hold him close and feel the grate of their skin together. “Anything,” Julian says.
“Would you let me get down between your knees and lick all along your thighs? Drag my teeth over your skin?”
“Mm-hmm.” He tightens his grip on his cock, imagining Noel’s wet tongue scraping over his navel on its downward passage.
“Would you let me suck you off? Fuck my mouth until you came down my throat?”
A shudder goes through him, and his hand speeds up. “Yeah.”
“Would you let me fuck you?”
Julian’s whole body dilates with desire. “Yes,” he moans. “Yes.”
“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”
Julian can only groan, his arse clenching in need, suddenly aware of everything he could have.
“Want me to push you back on this bed and spread your legs wide? I’d fuck you slow, till you couldn’t take it any more, till you were begging, Ju.” He lets out a heavy breath, which Julian can almost feel, humid and hot, on the back of his neck. “You’d be shaking for it, begging me to touch you, but I wouldn’t, not yet. I’d want you to remember what I could do to you. Is that what you want, Julian? To feel me inside you like that?”
“Yes,” he gasps, shuddering. He jerks himself roughly, desperate, wishing he could have even one touch of Noel’s skin. His breath catches in his throat. “Please.”
Noel echoes his gasp, and for a moment, there is only silence. Then, catching his breath, he continues. “Just when you were thinking I’d never let you come, I’d lick my palm and wrap it around your cock, would you like that?”
“Yes.” This is some sort of wild catechism, and he is caught in his desire for Noel, can’t untangle himself, can only hang on the sound of his voice, attending the next low syllable.
“Touch yourself like I would, like your hand was mine.”
Julian does as he’s told, licking wet across his tongue and taking just the sort of cavalier pace Noel favors. He moans, imagining Noel here with him, the rim of the receiver the edge of his lip against Julian’s ear.
“I want you,” Noel whispers, and that is what sends Julian over the edge, the naked desire in Noel’s voice, and he comes, choking on his own breath. He can hear Noel groan, pictures his back arching as he climaxes, and then it is over.
They lie in their separate beds, catching their breath across the transatlantic connection. Outside, the sun is finally rising, its warm light tracing across Julian’s floor.
“Wish you were here,” Noel says, his voice quiet.
“You’ll be back soon enough.”
“Yeah.”
The silence stretches out between them, and Julian knows he should say his good-byes, hang up, let Noel get some sleep, but he cannot bring himself to do so. Moments like this are too precious, when they can just be still together, alone in all the world.
Noel is a sailor on a ship of gold. Julian can see him coasting through night’s dark ocean, smiling, intrepid, bold. As for Julian, he’s back on the shore, lighthouse-keeping. It’s not a job he minds.
Pairing or Characters: Noel/Julian
Summary: While on tour with IAMX, Noel gives Julian a call . . .
Word Count: 1,273
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Phone sex?
Disclaimer: No ownership is implied, no profit made, and no offense intended.
Author’s Notes: I should probably acknowledge themogwai, whose Challenge #21 fic, was the unwitting inspiration for this one. The two stories don’t have much in common in terms of theme, but the line “Even when you both spin off, the return is inevitable as day to night” is what got me started here, so-credit where it’s due. Also, all information about the IAMX tour is totally of my own imagining. All comments and criticism are greatly welcome.
Noel calls him from New York, breathless with excitement. “Guess what time it is!”
In London, Julian glances over to see that it is five in the morning, the edge of day. The air outside his bedroom window is blue, the fragile half-light of dawn. In New York, it is midnight, and Julian imagines the city dark and shining.
“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Noel says, before Julian can reply. “Night where I am, morning where you are. I feel like a time-traveler. Tell me the news from the future.”
Noel’s voice does not sound distant at all, not in time or space. It sounds as if he is lying right next to him, his lips a phantom pressure on the shell of Julian’s ear. “Dunno, I’ve been sleeping through it.”
Noel chuckles. “You’re no fun.”
He clears his throat and rolls over onto his side, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “How was your flight?”
“Fine, we just checked into the hotel.”
“Hm.”
“You sound tired. I should let you go.”
“No, it’s all right.” He’s glad to hear Noel’s voice. Noel is his left half, the part of his body where his heart is housed. He doesn’t mind being separated for a little while, but whenever he hears Noel’s voice, it’s a little like coming home.
It doesn’t bother Julian, how easily Noel can be tempted away. He’s happy for Noel, living out the rock star dream on tour in America. That doesn’t change anything, not really. Noel is the arc of the sun. He burns a bright course through the sky at an impossible height, disappearing behind the ever-retreating line of the horizon. But no matter what happens, no matter how long the night, Julian knows Noel will always come back around, in time.
“What’re you thinking about?” Noel asks, and Julian realizes they have been hanging on the line in silence for some time now.
“You,” he replies truthfully.
“Oh, really? You dirty boy.”
He chuckles. “Not like that, you berk.”
“Go on, then. What am I wearing?”
The suggestion causes a warm tide spreads through his stomach. His throat feels dry. “Dunno.”
“I’ll tell you, then, shall I?” Noel’s voice is sultry but teasing, drawing Julian in and mocking him when he feels the pull. There is a moment’s pause, and the sound of shuffling cloth. “I’ve got my vest on, and jeans, and I’ve just taken my boots off.”
“Mm.” He can see Noel clearly, seated on the bed in the vacant, clear white hotel room, his long, lean torso, his naked feet poised above the cheap carpet.
“And what are you wearing?” Noel muses. Then he answers his own question: “Nothing, probably. I love that. Makes waking up that much better.”
Julian smiles, despite himself. He, too, enjoys waking up next to Noel, their warm, bare limbs entangled. He shivers a little, thinking of the slide of one of Noel’s thighs between his own.
He is not sure what Noel hears, some quickened intake of breath, or maybe desire travels over telephone wires the same as sound, but something causes Noel to say in a suspicious tone, “Are you wanking over there?”
He laughs quietly. “No.”
Noel falls silent. When he speaks, it is to say, “Maybe you should.”
For a moment, Julian cannot breathe. “What?”
“Touch yourself.”
Julian hesitates. He lies still in bed, listening to Noel’s breathing in New York.
“I want to hear you do it.” The laughter is gone from Noel’s voice, replaced by something low and rough and covetous. Julian cannot help losing himself in the sound of it.
He slides his free hand down under the duvet, and takes hold of his cock, which is already half-hard in anticipation. He strokes himself lazily, and sighs as a slow knot of desire uncurls itself through him.
“That’s it,” Noel says. “Not too fast. I want to make this last.”
Julian almost makes a joke, but can’t quite find the words. Instead, he says, “Take your time.”
“Miss me?” Noel asks, coy.
Julian does, of course.
Noel continues to talk. “What would you want me to do to you if you were here right now?”
He wishes he could feel Noel’s hot mouth on him, his clever fingers slipping over his thighs, the rasp of Noel’s cheek against his throat. Now more than ever, with Noel so far away, he wants to grasp Noel’s slender arms until they bruise, to hold him close and feel the grate of their skin together. “Anything,” Julian says.
“Would you let me get down between your knees and lick all along your thighs? Drag my teeth over your skin?”
“Mm-hmm.” He tightens his grip on his cock, imagining Noel’s wet tongue scraping over his navel on its downward passage.
“Would you let me suck you off? Fuck my mouth until you came down my throat?”
A shudder goes through him, and his hand speeds up. “Yeah.”
“Would you let me fuck you?”
Julian’s whole body dilates with desire. “Yes,” he moans. “Yes.”
“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”
Julian can only groan, his arse clenching in need, suddenly aware of everything he could have.
“Want me to push you back on this bed and spread your legs wide? I’d fuck you slow, till you couldn’t take it any more, till you were begging, Ju.” He lets out a heavy breath, which Julian can almost feel, humid and hot, on the back of his neck. “You’d be shaking for it, begging me to touch you, but I wouldn’t, not yet. I’d want you to remember what I could do to you. Is that what you want, Julian? To feel me inside you like that?”
“Yes,” he gasps, shuddering. He jerks himself roughly, desperate, wishing he could have even one touch of Noel’s skin. His breath catches in his throat. “Please.”
Noel echoes his gasp, and for a moment, there is only silence. Then, catching his breath, he continues. “Just when you were thinking I’d never let you come, I’d lick my palm and wrap it around your cock, would you like that?”
“Yes.” This is some sort of wild catechism, and he is caught in his desire for Noel, can’t untangle himself, can only hang on the sound of his voice, attending the next low syllable.
“Touch yourself like I would, like your hand was mine.”
Julian does as he’s told, licking wet across his tongue and taking just the sort of cavalier pace Noel favors. He moans, imagining Noel here with him, the rim of the receiver the edge of his lip against Julian’s ear.
“I want you,” Noel whispers, and that is what sends Julian over the edge, the naked desire in Noel’s voice, and he comes, choking on his own breath. He can hear Noel groan, pictures his back arching as he climaxes, and then it is over.
They lie in their separate beds, catching their breath across the transatlantic connection. Outside, the sun is finally rising, its warm light tracing across Julian’s floor.
“Wish you were here,” Noel says, his voice quiet.
“You’ll be back soon enough.”
“Yeah.”
The silence stretches out between them, and Julian knows he should say his good-byes, hang up, let Noel get some sleep, but he cannot bring himself to do so. Moments like this are too precious, when they can just be still together, alone in all the world.
Noel is a sailor on a ship of gold. Julian can see him coasting through night’s dark ocean, smiling, intrepid, bold. As for Julian, he’s back on the shore, lighthouse-keeping. It’s not a job he minds.