Ross MacDonald Imagines

A Call Away

Word Count: 1,914
Warnings: WOW this is smut.
Summary: Ross Phone Sex. Nuff said.

He calls you as you are just settling into bed.

His voice is soft and even after you answer, crawling into bed in your pajamas. It speaks hello into the phone as if you are not really two oceans away from him, as if he is fulfilling your dreams by filling the dip in the bed you are loathing the sight of. You ask what the reason for him calling is, because even though you are glad to hear your boyfriend's voice, it is late, and you frankly would prefer to be asleep. You hear a pause, but no response. Merely a shifting of sorts, followed by a grumble that causes you to grow suspicious. You call out his name, only to get a similar grumble in return. This grumble however is not alone. Following it, you hear a soft, breathy moan, barely audible. Had you not heard it before, you would have thought you are merely hearing things. But you know that sound anywhere. A small gasp leaving you, your hand flies up to cover your mouth. The other line is silent.

"Ross...are you...are you touching yourself?"

For a while, you are almost sure he will never tell you an answer. Then, you hear his breath hitch, and a low whine meets your line. He lets out a long sigh, sending shivers up and down your already awakened body.

"That depends," he draws out, in a voice that is sure to be illegal outside of the bedroom, "does the thought of that turn you on?"

Your breath hitches, and you look around to make sure you are alone despite knowing for a fact you are in your small bedroom. He stays quiet, awaiting a response.

"Ross, I-I-"

"I said," he repeated, voice growing darker, "does that turn you on?"

You hardly know what to say. On the one hand, yeah. The thought that Ross called you up, probably hard and needy and wanting to get off to or with you, is enticing in the most sinful of ways. You cannot deny the way it sends heat to your core and sends the blood racing from your head. On the other, it's night time. You are tired, you are already in bed, showered and settled. Indulging in Ross means possibly needing another shower (probably a cold one) and having to settle into bed again. A breathy moan on the other line rattles you from your thoughts. Ross sounds to be getting more excited. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

"Y-Yes."

There is a pause, and then more shifting. "Yes what?"

"Ross-"

"Yes what, {Y/N}?"

The firmness in his voice catches your breath. "Yes, it turns me on."

"What does?"

"Please Ross I-"

"What turns you on, {Y/N}?"

Biting your lip, you let out a sigh of defeat and move to rid yourself of your pajama bottoms. "Yes, the thought of you touching yourself turns me on."

A pleased hum emits through the line. "Tell me...are you wet yet, love?"

"Ross!"

"Touch yourself."

"I-"

"That's an order."

Your jaw drops. Ross, your gentle and soft teddy bear Ross, is not holding back tonight. He likes to be dominant in bed every now and then, usually moreso through actions than words, but even the times his words have been used, they never came out so forceful or so dark. Unsure how to properly breathe, you lick your fingers and let your hand trail down to your core. Once there, you massage yourself a bit, getting a good feel for yourself. Sure enough, even without your help, you are wet. Ross lets out another breath, this time more needy than the others.