[It is tempting to decline the call. It would be a wonderful expression of self-control.
But he wants to see her, which is half the problem. A problem that ceases to exist when she comes into view. His camera isn't on while he admires her. Then it is, but it's pointing up at the ceiling. Deliberately.
His voice is low, with the edge an authority figure gets when they're about to count to three.]
Ask nicely. [He makes no attempt to hide the fact that he's still jerking off but she can't see it.]
[It becomes very apparent that Cable is 1. Mad horny and 2. Looking up toward his phone. The light from his eye is pinging on the ceiling, erratic like the pumps of his hand.
He's also laughing at her.]
You're a good girl.
[He turns the phone so she can see him from the neck down, letting his telekinesis keep it afloat so he can busy himself with his hands.]
You just saw me. Had me.
[He's not good at hiding his surprise. Maybe he should be taking this in stride.]
Do you love my dick that much, bunny? You're making me feel guilty.
[ It hardly matters that she saw him within the past day. She misses him so powerfully in this moment, with a ferocity she doesn't know what to do with it, nor presently explain.
It's not merely his dick she loves.
She's enraptured by the work of his hands, how furiously he's touching himself. She wishes it was her own hands, her mouth doing this for him. Performing their duty.
Without reservations: ] Yes.
[ And to drive that point home, knowing he's close, she maneuvers the camera and herself so that he can see the state of her cunt, the fingers of one hand pulling aside the lips so he might get the full view. Right down to the flare and clench of her opening, the forming of a string of wetness. ]
[He unfilters himself, briefly. His hand moves faster and his hips arch up into his own touch, a little needily for him. He'd like to say the guilt he feels for brainwashing her is somewhere else right now, but it isn't. He's thinking about it. And it turns him on.
He groans, thready and urgent. He also huffs out a surprised breath, because he's genuinely enraptured by what he's watching and he knows he's very fucking close.]
Touch yourself. [He orders, and his voice still carries authority even when he's breathless and clearly desperate for her.]
[ Say less. Francesca loves an order. Especially when it has to do with sexual pleasure.
She does just as he bade, three fingers running down her cunt, making a further mess of things. She curls two inside herself -- it's easy, too easy this wet -- and uses her thumb to rub against her clit. He didn't say what they had to be doing. ]
Wish I were inside you. [And he will be, soon. But he needs to finish or he'll probably go inside. Luckily the side of her pretty fingers buried inside herself does it for him.
He curses under his breath, finishing up his stomach and chest and over his hand. His chest rises and falls, still watching her.]
I'll be there soon. I want you like that for me when I come in.
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But he wants to see her, which is half the problem. A problem that ceases to exist when she comes into view. His camera isn't on while he admires her. Then it is, but it's pointing up at the ceiling. Deliberately.
His voice is low, with the edge an authority figure gets when they're about to count to three.]
Ask nicely. [He makes no attempt to hide the fact that he's still jerking off but she can't see it.]
Ask nice enough and I'll come bury it in you.
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It reduces her to whining. She doesn't even pretend or attempt to hold out. Not this horny. ]
Please.
[ The opposite of elegant and lady-like. The Ton would be scandalized. By all of this. ]
I need you. I need you so very badly. I miss you. I miss Daddy's cock.
no subject
He's also laughing at her.]
You're a good girl.
[He turns the phone so she can see him from the neck down, letting his telekinesis keep it afloat so he can busy himself with his hands.]
You just saw me. Had me.
[He's not good at hiding his surprise. Maybe he should be taking this in stride.]
Do you love my dick that much, bunny? You're making me feel guilty.
no subject
It's not merely his dick she loves.
She's enraptured by the work of his hands, how furiously he's touching himself. She wishes it was her own hands, her mouth doing this for him. Performing their duty.
Without reservations: ] Yes.
[ And to drive that point home, knowing he's close, she maneuvers the camera and herself so that he can see the state of her cunt, the fingers of one hand pulling aside the lips so he might get the full view. Right down to the flare and clench of her opening, the forming of a string of wetness. ]
no subject
[He unfilters himself, briefly. His hand moves faster and his hips arch up into his own touch, a little needily for him. He'd like to say the guilt he feels for brainwashing her is somewhere else right now, but it isn't. He's thinking about it. And it turns him on.
He groans, thready and urgent. He also huffs out a surprised breath, because he's genuinely enraptured by what he's watching and he knows he's very fucking close.]
Touch yourself. [He orders, and his voice still carries authority even when he's breathless and clearly desperate for her.]
Three fingers.
no subject
She does just as he bade, three fingers running down her cunt, making a further mess of things. She curls two inside herself -- it's easy, too easy this wet -- and uses her thumb to rub against her clit. He didn't say what they had to be doing. ]
no subject
He curses under his breath, finishing up his stomach and chest and over his hand. His chest rises and falls, still watching her.]
I'll be there soon. I want you like that for me when I come in.