tracob oneshots (DISCONTINUED)

let's talk about making love

-by istajmaal on ao3

If Troye were in his right mind, he would have asked why Jedidiah had the number of a gay sex line programmed into his phone in the first place, but given that he's pissed off his head and has been sexually frustrated by couples grinding in front of him for the past three hours (not to mention the past seventeen years), asking questions is pretty much the last thing on his mind when a soft voice says into his ear are your jeans getting tight for me?

It's Jedidiah's fault, as always. "You need to get laid."

"Youuuuu," Troye says, knitting his eyebrows together and poking Jedidiah repeatedly between the eyes, "need to mind your own business, mister."

"You've been out for, what, six months?" Jedidiah continues unabated. "And you haven't even hooked up with a guy."

"I'm still reeling from your rejection." Troye stirs the dregs of his drink around with his little pink umbrella. The cup used to be a pretty green, now it's almost empty. Troye pouts.

Jedidiah finishes off his beer and throws the can over his shoulder. "You offering yourself up for a threesome with me and my boyfriend doesn't count as putting yourself out there."

That's not exactly fair, since Troye did also give Jedidiah a celebratory coming-out blowjob in the school toilets, but that's not something Jedidiah likes to bring up when Adam is milling around nearby. "You know, we used to be friends." Troye picks the umbrella out of his drink and sticks it behind his ear. "Friends don't off and get fit older boyfriends without even telling their friends they're bi and then not share those fit boyfriends."

"Was that written down in our year three friendship code?" Jedidiah says as he scans the crowd. "Because otherwise, I can't recognize that rule. Oi, Adam!"

Jedidiah's (extremely fit, Troye thinks glumly) boyfriend makes his way through the crowd of gyrating bodies (most of which Troye has known since before they hit puberty) to the little loveseat in the corner that Troye and Jedidiah have sprawled themselves over. "'Sup, loves?" Adam sits on the arm of the couch and kisses Jedidiah's temple before hooking his foot around Jedidiah's. Troye thinks he might vomit up his green drink.

Jedidiah grins up at Adam softly and gives him an awkward one-armed hug that mostly ends up with him shoving his face into Adam's abs. "Give me my phone back," Jedidiah says, making grabby hands.

Adam seems distressingly sober as he looks down on Troye and Jedidiah with a touch of paternalism. "Do you promise not to call Barbara like last time?"

"Last time I was still heartbroken." Jedidiah pinches Adam's nipple and the older boy winces. "Now I have you, don't I?"

"You do," Adam concedes, ducking his face down to hide his grin as he roots around in his pocket for Jedidiah's phone. (Troye sees his grin anyway. Vomiting keeps seeming like a better and better option.) "What do you need it for, anyway?"

"Troye needs a certain number I have saved." Jedidiah waggles his eyebrows up at Adam.

"What—oh." Adam suddenly starts smiling wickedly and Troye wishes he would go back to fawning over Jedidiah from across the room at crowded parties like this, because this smile can't mean anything good. Troye groans dramatically and throws his forearm over his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Jedidiah?"

"I've never had a better idea in my life." Jedidiah pats Troye's knee. "Just needs to get over his shyness, then our Troye will be out blowing guys in the toilets before we know it."

"Heyyyy," Troye says, although that doesn't sound like such a bad thing, actually. He kicks his foot out and hits the table instead of Jedidiah. Possibly the second margarita was a bad idea, but Troye's seventeen, he needs to stop being such a lightweight sometime, doesn't he?

"Well, we've certainly seen how phone sex can draw people out of their shells."

Troye laughs a little. Phone sex. That's funny. What is even happening? Adam is whispering something in Jedidiah's ear and Jedidiah is giggling and pushing a bunch of buttons on his phone and that's so silly, why would Jedidiah be sexting when Adam is practically in his lap already. Sexting is so weird. Phone sex must be so weird.

Then the phone is being pushed into Troye's hand and he suddenly feels drunker and more sober than ever at once.

"Wait," Troye says, staring down at the phone in horror and looking around like one of his drunk classmates hanging off each other's shoulders in the name of dancing might have an answer, "wait wait what is happening—"

"Pick it up!" Adam slides into Jedidiah's lap and they both laugh with their foreheads pressed together. Troye has Jedidiah's phone in his hands and he needs better friends, but it doesn't look like Jedidiah and Adam are very interested in hearing that at the moment, so he pulls the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sexy."

Troye's eyes widen so far it feels like they might roll out of his head. Adam and Jedidiah are watching him and giggling into each other's lips. This is definitely a violation of the friendship code, at least in spirit.

"Umm, hi?" Troye pulls his eyes away from Jedidiah and Adam, squeezes his eyes shut, and starts to focus on the call—until he realizes that's a terrible idea. "Hi, oh, I'm, um—sorry, I just—"

"Nervous?" The person—man, Troye thinks, that is a man's voice, a soft and slightly giggly man, but a man—on the other end of the line hums. "That's all right, pretty boy. Why don't you start by telling me what you're wearing?"

"I—" Suddenly the party seems really loud and hot and the way Jedidiah and Adam are laughing at him feels like too much, and Troye stands up, plugging a finger in the ear he isn't holding the phone up to. "Um, just jeans and a shirt."

"Are your jeans getting tight for me?" The voice on the other end is low, confident, sexy, everything that Troye is not feeling while Jedidiah stares at his face and slaps his knee. Troye's face burns as he pushes past a bunch of people on the dance floor and makes his way to the back porch, muttering just a sec while his ears ring. He can't tell if the man on the other line says anything else until he closes the door behind him.

There's a straight couple making out against the back wall of the house, and Troye squawks when he sees them. He is too drunk for all of this. He stumbles down the steps. "Sorry," he says, feeling bad for keeping the other person waiting. "Sorry," he says again when he remembers the person is a phone sex operator. What. "Sorry." Troye stumbles into the passenger's seat of Jedidiah's car and groans, leaning his head back against the seat and then banging it a couple times for good measure.

"'S all right, love," the man says. "Everyone has a little trouble getting it up now and then, take your time."

Troye groans again. He's literally never had that problem; it's that his dick never has a place to go once it's up that's gotten him into this situation. "I didn't mean to call you," Troye says to the fuzzy dice hanging over Jedidiah's rearview mirror. "'S just a bad night."

"Let's make it better, then." The man sounds unperturbed, and Troye can appreciate that quality in a person, really. "Are you gonna ask what I'm wearing?"

Troye could hang up, is the thing. He probably—he really should hang up. He's sober enough to know that these sorts of things cost money, and that he's on Jedidiah's phone, and that Jedidiah's parents probably won't appreciate this particular bill.

Jedidiah is also a fucking tit, so.

"Tell me," Troye mumbles. His hand goes automatically to adjust the growing bulge in his jeans (he's seventeen, he's never more than ten seconds away from being half-hard), and then he hears the operator hum and he squeezes himself. The thrum of the bass at the party feels far away now. "I don't know what to do, what to ask, just—tell me what to do."

"Touch yourself for me," the operator says automatically. There's a little more authority in his voice now, a little less... soft kitten. Troye likes kittens, he thinks hazily, but he really likes the thrill that goes up his spine as he palms himself through his jeans obediently. He must let out some kind of sound he doesn't notice, because after a moment the operator is saying, "Yeah, pretty boy, you like that?"

"Yeah," Troye exhales, thumbing over the outline of the head of his cock through his trousers. It's stupid—of course he likes touching his dick, he's a seventeen-year-old boy—but that's not the question he's answering, really. He likes this, likes having strange men on the phone call him pretty and tell him to touch his dick.

"You're hard now, aren't you, pretty boy?"

"Troye," Troye says without thinking, any semblance of concern about using his real name erased as his cock comes out of his jeans. "'M Troye."

"Are you hard for me now, Troye?"

"Yeah." Troye just stares at his own cock for a moment, full and pink and hard and leaking, before wrapping his hand around it, finally, the almost-pain of his hardness giving way to something delicious. "Yeah, please, 'm hard."

"Wish I could see your big, strong hand around that cock, Troye. Touch yourself for me, yeah? Imagine it's me. I want you so bad." The voice comes slightly tinny through the phone, but it's also smooth and sultry and a real person is saying those things to him. Troye's fist works over his cock pretty much the same way it does every day (sometimes more than once a day because Troye is a teenager and he has needs) but something about this whole situation makes him feel a little floaty, out of his head, and he can imagine that it isn't the same old hand twisting over him and rubbing at the precome leaking from his slit, that the man on the phone is really the one jerking him off.

"What do I call you?" Troye asks breathlessly.

"Anything you like, pretty boy." Troye can practically hear the smile in the voice over the phone, and it feels like the operator might be making fun of him a little, but it's definitely not a turn off. "Sir. Master. Daddy."

"Daddy," Troye repeats as he starts to pump his cock faster. Something swirls in Troye's gut, but he snaps himself out of it. "Your name, I mean. I want to call you your name."

The voice falters for half a second before saying, "Cory."

"Cory." Troye exhales. "Cory, what do I—tell me what to do now." Cory can probably hear the slap of Troye's skin as he jerks himself off quickly but not quite efficiently, waiting for something to happen that'll spur him towards the edge.

"What do you want to do, Troye?" Cory speaks so breathily into his ear Troye can imagine him here, whispering into Troye's ear, sitting Troye on his lap and jerking Troye off while Troye squirms back against his cock. That's all he wants, really, for someone to work him over until he's a wreck, but if he can't have that right now—

"Come." It's embarrassing how quickly Troye's been reduced to this, from drinking and dancing with his friends to writhing around in a passenger's seat desperately fucking his own hand. "Please, wanna come."

Cory doesn't say anything for a moment, just listens as Troye starts whining and working his cock as fast as he can. He's so close, all he needs is another word from Cory and he'll be spilling over the edge—

But then. "Stop."

Troye chews on his lip and falters from a moment from the rhythm he's worked up to. "No, 'm close, I—"

Cory sounds stern. "Do you wanna be a good boy for me, Troye?"

"I—" Troye's rhythm finally falters as he blurts out another heavy bead of precome. It occurs to him that anyone could come and find him like this—that Jedidiah and Adam might even be looking for him by now, that they could find him hard and wet and fucking his fist like he can't help himself—and he can't, not while Cory's voice is in his ear like this, so. "Yeah, I wanna—good, 'm good."

"Then stop for me."

Troye drops his hand from his cock and in that moment, it feels like it might be the hardest thing he's ever done. He brings his thumb into his mouth to clean off the precome that's gathered there. His hand shakes and he just smears it over his lip. He's a mess. "Stopped. Cory—please."

"Do you have any lube, kitten?"

Kitten. Troye feels like he's downed a whole other margarita. There's no way he can be held responsible for his actions. "N-no."

Cory hums in dissatisfaction. Troye's gut plummets—he said he'd be a good boy—but then Cory says, "You'll have to get your fingers wet another way, then."

"I—okay. Yes." Troye licks the precome off his lip and keeps looking between his hand and his cock, wondering for a second if this is worth it.

Then Cory continues. "You want to fuck yourself for me, yeah?"

"Yeah," Troye agrees quickly, closing his eyes and sighing a little. God, he's only done this a couple times, and he had a ton of lube and a big bed to spread himself out in and pillows to prop his hips up on to reach the right angle, but if Cory asks him to, he feels like he could do it right now.

"Suck on your fingers, then." There's an insistence behind Cory's curt command that makes this feel like it's either important to him in the extreme, or not at all.

Troye likes it. He shoves three fingers in his mouth at once, not really realizing how big they are until he's trying to lock his lips and swirl his tongue around them. He moans a little at how full it feels, and tries to push his fingers even deeper even while he gags a little around them.

Cory hums into the phone. "I'll bet you look lovely with your mouth all full for me."

Lovely, Troye thinks, closing his eyes and sucking hard on his three fingers, swirling his tongue around them and wondering if Cory really thinks so, if he would, if he could see Troye like this. Troye feels a little—okay, a lot ridiculous, with a hard edge of turned-on, and just the faintest shadow of lovely.

Cory's not saying anything anymore, but his breath is still heavy in Troye's ear. Troye laves his tongue over his fingers, fucking them in and out of his mouth until they're sopping wet, and then he hums, the sound muffled around his fingers.

"Gonna finger yourself for me now, kitten, aren't you?" Cory asks. "For Daddy?"

"Yes." Troye nearly chokes as he tries to speak around his fingers. He sputters as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth roughly. "Yes, nngh, can I—"

"You can touch your cock," Cory says softly, as if he's doing Troye a favor, as if Troye couldn't just touch his cock regardless (he could, Troye tells himself, he would, if he wanted to), "as long as you don't come."

"I won't." Troye's voice feels high and small and foreign in his throat, but it feels good, feels unashamed, like right now he's maybe more of himself than he's ever been. "Daddy, won't."

"Of course not, pet," Cory coos, and Troye keens as he fumbles to put the phone on speaker. He shoves his wet hand down the back of his pants roughly, trying not to unbalance the phone from his shoulder. "You're my good boy, my pretty boy, does just what Daddy asks."

"Yes," Troye hisses as he rubs his fingers over his puckered hole, whining in the back of his throat at how easily the tip of his middle finger slides in while he gets his other hand back around his cock. It seems impossible, to be able to really ride his own fingers while he keeps bumping his knees into the dashboard, but Cory keeps muttering encouragements in his ear like keep going, kitten and that's my good boy and Troye feels like he could maybe do anything, honestly. Maybe he's just drunk. Drunk and horny and jerking himself off and feeling his arse up at the same time, circling the rim with his wet fingers and dipping just the tips in until Cory says, that's right, my pretty boy, fuck yourself for me, and Troye whines Daddy and starts to sink his finger in deeper, his grip on his cock tightening reflexively.

It's an accident, honestly—but with the pressure on his cock and the feeling of just breaching the second ring of muscle in his arse with his middle finger, and—and just, being called Daddy's pretty boy—it puts him over the edge faster than it has any right to, and Troye's whimpering and clenching around the tip of his finger and coming onto his jeans faster than he can even think to gather the come up in his hand. His head thunks back hard against the seat again. He's almost forgotten about the phone wedged between his shoulder and the seat until a voice comes asks, "Did you—"

"Sorry," Troye says quickly, swallowing and sweating and fuck he needs to drink some water, his head is spinning. "Sorry, I—I had to."

"It's all right, baby, I'm not mad," Cory says gently. "'S long as you had a good time."

"Good," Troye echoes thoughtlessly. His eyes are getting droopy. "Really good time."

When Jedidiah and Adam find Troye curled up asleep in the passenger seat half an hour later, with Jedidiah's phone clutched in his hand, that's all they need to know.

+++

"Just like that, baby—yeah, god, you fuck me so good—"

Something hits the side of Jacob's face. The something, Jacob knows without looking, is a bright green stuffed frog with one of the eyes pulled off that one of his sisters left in the apartment on their last visit. Jacob knows this because Adam has thrown the frog at him the last four times that he's come home to find Jacob laying sprawled on the couch in sweats moaning his heart out for a client on the phone. He doesn't even miss a beat in the heavy breathing pattern he's established as he picks the frog up and throws it after Adam just before he manages to get his door shut.

"Fuck," Jacob pants, "you're gonna make me come." Adam sticks his hand back out the door to flip Jacob off while Jacob settles back down into the couch. It's more comfortable to work out here, since the AC doesn't reach either of their bedrooms, as Adam very well knows since he leaves invoices from the tattoo shop out here on the table all the time. The client comes and while Jacob talks him through it, he reminds himself to stick the frog in the drawer where Adam keeps his condoms the next time Jedidiah comes over.

"This is the last time," the client insists. "I'm getting married." He hangs up before Jacob gets a chance to say anything, and Jacob just sighs and puts the phone down next to his head on the couch. He gets a lot of one-off clients in his line of work. Closet cases, uni kids, people away from their partners on business—all too ashamed by the fact that Jacob's voice gets them off to ever call back. He doesn't mind, so much—there are always new people calling him up, and it keeps things interesting. Even being asked to shove a chicken egg up his ass and let the whites drip out gets tedious after the seventh or eighth time.

It's not that Jacob really begrudges his regular clients. Trying to act out an egg-laying fetish in any other context would probably lead to salmonella, and it's not like he even has to take his pants off for the guy to come screaming his—or, well, Cory's—name. It's just that Jacob very rarely gets clients who are interested in the same things he is. Subby younger boys apparently don't need to resort to phone sex lines to get off. Or at least not more than once. When the phone rings again, Jacob steels himself for another quarter hour of describing how egg white feels dripping out of his arse and wonders if he shouldn't go back to uni.

"Hello, sexy," Jacob says, just as Adam was starting to open his door to come out. He slams it shut again quickly. "W—"

"Hiiiii, it's, um, Troye," the person on the other end says before Jacob can even ask his name. "Sorry, you probably don't remember me, you must talk to so many people—"

"I remember you, Troye." Jacob's lips curl up in a smile. He may be a sex line operator, but not that many cute teenagers have called him Daddy. He'd probably like the job a lot more if they did. "Troye who came without permission. Naughty boy, did you come back to be punished?"

"Ummm..." Troye sounds like he might be panicked. Shit, too strong.

"Or d'you just need Daddy to take care of you?" Jacob coos. He sits up and cups his semi through his trackies. Maybe he should go into his room. He actually had a bit of a jerk-off after Troye fell asleep on him last time, and as much as he likes annoying Adam, getting come out of the couch is a pain.

"Please." Troye sounds relieved. Good. Jacob can be a nice daddy. Well, he can be anything, but he might even enjoy this. "I, um..." Troye coughs a little awkwardly. "I have lube this time."

Jacob grins more widely than he's done at work since his least favorite regular was caught with his pants down by his wife. "Let's see what we can do with that, hmm?"

+++

Troye remains curious about why Jedidiah has the number of a gay sex line programmed into his phone—much less the number of a gay sex line with a little note attached that says "L ex. 144"—but he doubts it's a good idea to ask him while he's frantically trying to figure out how to use a fire extinguisher.

"Motherfucking shower of useless bollocks motherfucking how do I use this piece of shit?"

"I'm googling!" Troye says in what he thinks is a very good imitation of a panic. Keeping Jedidiah busy was, in fact, the entire point of Troye starting a small kitchen fire. He copies the number into his own phone quickly, but that's not to say he's a little nervous as he considers the potential for his small kitchen fire to become a large fire fire. He types out the extension, shoves Jedidiah's phone back onto the table, and says, "Pull the pin, you've got to pull the pin out—"

"What fucking pin?"

Because Troye is a responsible arsonist, he manages to wrestle the extinguisher from Jedidiah and put out the fire properly before it moves past the counter. Jedidiah's parents are remodeling the kitchen next week anyway. The half-burnt dish rag and smelling like smoke for a day and a half are totally worth it after Troye comes harder than he ever has in his life with Cory whispering good boy in his ear.

...Troye does feel a little bad about how Jedidiah was grounded, though. To make it extra worth it, he decides to call Cory a third time. (And a fourth. By the fifth time, he doesn't need any excuse beyond how delighted Jacob sounds every time he hears Troye's voice on the other end.)

"Don't get many cute teenagers calling me up on the regular," Cory says cheerfully. He's started being a bit more friendly since Troye admitted he's planning on calling him pretty regularly, and he's usually in the mood to chat before he gets Troye to fuck himself. "Mostly middle-aged men embarrassed by their fetishes. You're one of a kind, sweet cheeks."

Troye blushes. "You don't know what I look like. You don't know I'm cute."

"Aww, Troye." Troye has a feeling that if Jacob were here he'd pinch his cheeks or ruffle his hair or something. Which is sexier than it has any right to be, honestly. "I know you're cute because you insisted on buying a shiny vibrator."

"'S less intimidating, I told you." Troye pouts a little as he turns the toy over in his hands. It's a good seven and a half inches long, and just a hair thicker than three of Troye's fingers, which a week ago Troye would have been extremely intimidated by, but it's also purple and flecked with bits of silver glitter.

"Intimidated?" Cory tuts gently. "Need Daddy to talk you through it, baby?"

Troye chews on his lip and turns the vibrator over in his hands a few times. He probably should have chosen something smaller, or less—veiny, but he'd had to run to the sex shop on break from his shift at the restaurant, and he'd pretty much just picked up the first dick-shaped thing he saw that had a little sparkle to it.

"Please." Troye thumbs over the little ridge on the head of the vibrator. "Want it so bad."

"I know, baby. Gonna give you everything you want."

"Want you." Troye eyes the lube sitting on the edge of his bed, but he can't stop touching the plastic cock. "Please."

Cory's breath is coming in hard pants through the phone. "Are you already naked?"

"Yes." Troye speaks in the small, soft voice that he finds himself slipping into when he's talking to Cory. To his daddy. (He's grateful that he's never called his stepfather that, because if he had he's not sure he could look him in the eye these days.)

"Good, baby, perfect. Did you prep yourself for me?"

"No. Like it better when you tell me to."

Cory lets out a long hum before he cuts himself off and says quickly. "Anything you want, princess." He continues more slowly. "You're hard for me, aren't you? Hard and wet?"

"Yes." Troye puts down the vibrator and spreads his legs out a bit more, straining his thighs a bit with the effort to remain upright on his knees, and strokes over his cock, smearing precome on his hand.

"Good boy, I love how wet you get." Cory grunts quietly, and Troye pictures him fucking his own hand with his phone held to his ear while Troye whimpers for him. "Get your fingers wet, baby, and sink them into your tight little arse for me."

"Yes, Daddy." Troye drizzles lube over his fingers and lies down, keeping the phone tucked under his ear while he turns onto his side and stretches one of his legs into the air. It's almost a routine, now, but each time feels even better than the last because each time Troye reaches behind himself and pushes between his arse cheeks to settle his fingers against his hole, it gets a little easier for him to push them inside. It's like his body is learning how to get fucked, Troye thinks as he pushes two fingers in straightaway.

He whimpers a little as his knuckles stretch around the tight rings of muscles, then pulls back and fucks into himself all the way with one finger. "Go on, kitten, I want to hear you," Cory encourages in Troye's ear. Troye clenches down on his middle finger and moans at how his arse grips around him like vice, but still opens up enough for him to work a second finger in, coaxing it past the tight muscles so that he can fuck himself on two fingers, grinding his hips back onto them and letting out staccato uhs as he manages to sink in farther, scissor his fingers out more.

"You like that?" Cory's voice is gruff with a trace of admiration. "Like being all stretched and ready for me to fuck you?"

"Fuck." Troye clenches down hard around his fingers, his outstretched leg shaking with the effort to keep himself as open as possible. "Fuck me, please, Daddy—"

"You'd be so tight around my cock." Cory starts to sound farther away, like he's set the phone down, and Troye whines loudly to compensate as he fucks himself on his fingers faster, meeting each thrust halfway with his hips.

"Yes," Troye whines, nudging a third finger against his entrance and pretending it belongs to someone else, "yes, I'm—god, Cory—"

"Jacob," the voice interrupts quickly, close to the phone again. A spark runs down Troye's spine as the voice speaks directly into his ear. "Call me Jacob."

Troye slows as he pushes his third finger inside himself. "Jacob." Troye exhales shakily. He can't move much, like this, he's too full, but he only wants more and more. "Is that—?"

"That's my name, baby, I'm Jacob." The voice on the phone inhales sharply, then says, "Gonna take my cock now, princess?"

Troye lets out a high-pitched mhmm and shudders as he pulls his fingers out of his hole, groping for the vibrator. "Nice to meet you," he says, feeling a bit dizzy with how hard his untouched cock is.

"Slide it in slow, baby." The voice—Jacob—sounds belabored, and when Troye stops rustling around pouring lube over the vibrator, he hears what he's sure is the sound of Jacob twisting his hand over his dick. "Let me feel you."

Troye's breath catches in his throat—he's imagined Jacob getting off with him before, but in the most distant part of his mind from where he is right now, he's always figured that Jacob isn't actually getting off on this, is actually just really good at his job. Now, though, he's sure that he hears Jacob jerking himself off while Troye lines up the vibrator with his arse, nudging it against his stretched entrance, and the idea that he's being good for Jacob, not just in doing what he says but actually getting him off, is overwhelming. "Jacob," Troye breathes out shakily, his breath hitching as he sinks the vibrator into himself, pausing every now and then to fuck it back and forth. "Jacob, Jacob—" He cuts off with a high-pitched moan once he's fully seated on the plastic cock.

Jacob lets out a moan of his own—a real, honest-to-goodness moan that Troye pulled out of him. "That's it, love, doing so well. How does it feel with me inside you, baby?"

"Please." The thought that the vibrator is Jacob, like a real extension of Jacob's cock, makes Troye feel twenty times fuller and harder and more desperate. He won't move until he's given permission, but he shifts his hand a little and bumps the head of the vibrator against his spot. Troye shouts—his thighs are actually trembling, he didn't even know that was a real thing, oh god. "So good, good, I need more please."

"Turn it on." Jacob says it quickly, like he's holding back a moan. Troye swears he hears a little snick through just before the vibrations start, before he's completely overwhelmed by the buzzing that seems to fill up every part of him, radiating out of him through his belly, down to the tips of his fingers and toes, making his head churn and his hips buck so that he brushes against his prostate again.

"Ja—Daddy." Troye's fingers clutch at the handle of the vibrator, fumbling for a good grip.

"That's it, darling, you sound so sweet for me." The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against slick skin comes through the phone. Jacob's lubed up and is jacking himself off, and that itself leads Troye to let out an incoherent sound as another wave of pleasure sweeps over him. He's barely even touched his prostate yet, oh god. "You can move now, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock."

Troye keens in response. He only pulls the vibrator out an inch or so before thrusting it back in, but it's enough to make him see stars. "Fuck," Troye says, sounding so high-pitched and desperate he only turns himself on more, so that his next thrust is with almost the entire length of the purple cock. His legs fall open impossibly wider and he digs his heels into his bed frantically, barely suppressing a shout. Then he fucks into himself again and hits his prostate dead on. The vibrations shoot through him like lightning, making him scream and arch his back and fuck himself faster and faster, hitting his spot every time, until he can't help but get his hand around his cock and whine, "Can I—I'm gonna—"

Jacob doesn't say anything, leaving Troye whining and squirming his hips, until Jacob lets out a harsh groan. Troye can hear the slippery sound of Jacob working over his cock faster and faster, until he keens and says, "Now, baby, come for me now."

Troye comes in long, thick ropes over his stomach, with the vibrator still pressed against his spot. He comes forever, so much stickiness covering him that it feels like it's draining the life out of him. When it's over, Troye lets out a shuddery breath and falls back against his pillow. "Thank you," he whispers.

Jacob lets out a breathless chuckle. "Any time, pretty boy."

Troye pulls the vibrator out of his arse slowly, setting it down on his nightstand. Neither of them say anything for a moment while Troye catches his breath and wipes the come off his tummy with a baby wipe. Eventually, once he can focus again, Troye clears his throat.

"So... Jacob?"

"Cory's a stage name," Jacob explains. His voice goes casual again incredibly quickly. "He's an old friend of Adam's, actually. Bit of a tosser. But he's got a great porn name."

"And you want me to call you by your real name." Troye tries not to let his voice sound hopeful, racking his brain for something that might mean other than I like you and would let you suck my real live dick.

There's a bit of crackling over the phone, like Jacob's fidgeting. "Well, you earned it. You should hear how good you sound, honestly. And I've heard pretty much all the competition."

The way Jacob moves so seamlessly between talking like they're best mates and talking like he's the first real live person to hear Troye come makes something hot twist in Troye's gut. "I don't even know what you look like," he says, a little sadly.

"Bit short." Jacob yawns a little. He definitely just came. Troye would suck his real live dick so hard. "Arm full of tattoos. Radiant blue eyes, brown hair soft like a feather. But, you know, a rugged and manly feather."

Troye shakes his head a little, smiling so hard his face might split in half. "Are you actually the protagonist of an adult romance novel?"

"Do you actually read adult romance novels?" Jacob asks seriously.

"Heeeeey." Even though Jacob can't see him, Troye puts a hand to his face to hide his smile. "My mum used to keep them in the car and I'd get bored."

Jacob hums like he doesn't believe him. "Don't need to ask what you look like, little kitten."

"Fluffy." Troye glances in the mirror and frowns. He seems to have gotten lube in his hair. Oh well. "Reckon my hair's a bit of a poofball, actually."

"That's just 'cause you're skittish," Jacob explains. "Only need someone to scratch behind your ears and you'll calm down."

Troye giggles. "Thank you," he says for what feels like the twentieth time today. He sinks down into his mattress. "You know, I wish I could do something for you."

"Sweetheart," Jacob says, and butterflies emerge in Troye's stomach. "You do."

Troye really has stumbled into a romance novel. He hides his face in his pillow. "I mean more than pay your electric bill," he mumbles."

"Hey, I'm pretty attached to having a working fan, mate, and you've already put me halfway there for the month," Jacob teases. "Don't put yourself down."

"You're funny." Troye yawns and rubs his cheek up against the pillow, his grin finally reducing to human size. "I would probably buy you flowers or something if I knew you for real."

Jacob pauses for a second, then says, "Reckon it's a good thing you don't, then."

"Bit embarrassing," Troye agrees. He yawns again. "G'night, Jacob."

"Sweet dreams, love."

Jacob waits for Troye to hang up. Troye lingers a few seconds longer than he should, just to listen to Jacob breathe.

+++

"Have you got yourself a fucking boyfriend or something?"

Jacob snorts and throws the stuffed frog at Adam's head. "Please. When was the last time I even went on a date?"

Adam catches the frog and throws it at Jacob's lap. "When was the last time you ever took sex calls in your room like a normal fucking roommate?"

"How do you know that was a sex call?" "

"Because it was a call you took between the hours of four and midnight." Adam crosses his arms. "Besides, I know what you sound like when you come, dumbass."

Jacob throws up his hands. "He gives me a mediocre blowjob once," he explains disparagingly to the stuffed frog, "and suddenly he's the expert on what I sound like in bed—"

"Best blowjob I've ever given."

"Seriously?" Jacob picks up the stuffed frog and throws it back at Adam's crotch. "Remind me to send Jedidiah a condolences card. Maybe some flowers."

"So you're saying you didn't just jerk off with whoever was on the phone with you?"

"I'm saying it's none of your business what I jerk off to, all right?" Jacob crosses his arms and looks back down at his phone just, like. In case the ringer wasn't working or something. "But if you must know, that was the sound of me faking it. Typical man, can't tell the difference."

"Then why're you running around all secretive, like you're expecting a call from your secret boyfriend?" Adam collapses on the couch across from Jacob, still looking skeptical.

"I don't have a secret boyfriend." Jacob drums his fingers on his thigh and glances at his phone again. "Trust me, if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't be able to shut up about him. I just decided to stop treating you to an earful all the time, like you've been begging, yeah? Now if you want to benefit from my expertise, you'll have to pay up like everybody else."

Adam rubs his temples. "I hate you. I wish I'd never sucked your dick."

"Don't worry, it was very forgettable." Jacob's phone rings and he darts up quickly. "Work!" he says, running towards his room.

"Wanker," Adam mumbles as Jacob slams his door shut.

"Hello," Jacob says, a little breathlessly after launching himself onto his bed from across the room. He hopes he still has a bit of smolder.

"Hi, Jacob!" Troye says brightly.

"Troye, baby." Jacob beams. "I was worried you'd forgotten about me."

"Never," Troye says, with a disarming degree of sincerity. Especially for someone who's still in school. No, especially for someone who is a client. "Sorry, just got held up talking to my mum."

"It's fine, baby," Jacob says, settling himself down into the nest of his blankets. "I'm just happy to hear your voice."

"Me too. I m—" Troye cuts off. "Me too," he says again.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. Jacob turns over in his bed so he doesn't have to see his smile in the mirror.

"I wanna—wanna try the vibrator again, please," Troye says in a rush after a minute.

"Anything you want, kitten." For a quarter of a second Jacob is disappointed that Troye doesn't just want to talk, but that disappointment disappears as soon as he hears Troye hum like he's already taken the plastic dick into his mouth.

"Beautiful," Jacob says quietly, and he means it. Troye's so fucking beautiful. Jacob has no idea what he looks like, but it's beautiful how open he is, how trusting, how he lets out these soft little whimpers like no one's ever told him it's not okay to want so loudly.

Possibly no one ever has. Possibly Jacob's the first person who's ever been in a position to. Jacob wants to keep him like this—whining and unapologetic and shouting Daddy as he comes around the vibrator Jacob convinced him to buy—forever. Even moaning back at Troye, telling him how hard he makes Jacob come, how Jacob can't stop himself thinking of anything but Troye's little whimpers while he comes—even that seems like it might spoil him. Like it would make him no different than any of the other clients for whom "Cory" has moaned. Jacob's actually gotten off on a few calls with other clients before, but when he comes with Troye, spilling wet over his fist and biting his lip white to keep from making a sound, it's different. It's important.

"Thank you," Troye mumbles sleepily after he's come. He is nothing like any other client Jacob's ever had. "Couldn't wait to try it again."

Jacob hums as he listens to Troye clean himself. "Didn't touch it without me?" he says, teasing slightly.

"No. Actually..." Troye yawns loudly directly into the phone, and a chill goes down Jacob's spine. "Don't think I've gotten off at all without you for a week. Is that weird?"

Fuck. Jacob's had at least one other client who he knew didn't get off except while he was talking to Jacob. But that was a sixty-something who had to pop a Viagra and listen to Jacob suck off his fingers for at least twenty minutes before he could even pop a boner, not a seventeen-year-old who seemed to get hard from a slight breeze.

"Not weird at all, babe." Jacob hopes he sounds more soothing than delighted.

"Sorry I'm so sleepy." Troye's voice is muffled, like his face is half pushed against his pillow, and Jacob wants to see him like that: while he's holding Troye down and fucking him to hell and back, but also after, when Troye is soft and sleepy like this and just wants Jacob to hold him. "Sorry I come so fast. You deserve more, like. Minutes. Or talking. Money talking." Whenever Troye starts babbling, it sounds like a verbal blush.

"You talk plenty," Jacob assures him. He finally finds the strength to get up and grab a Kleenex to wipe off his hand. "In fact, for a kitten, you're rather long-winded."

"'M not a kitten," Troye says, completely unconvincingly. His hum feels almost like a purr. Jacob wants to pet him. "That would be illegal, 'f I was a cat."

There's a chance this is illegal anyway, if Troye is as young as Jacob thinks he might be. He seems to still lives with his parents, and once or twice he's mentioned college, but—well, Jedidiah is still in college too, and he's legal. Besides, if neither of them bring it up, there's no reason Jacob's boss needs to know that.

Troye yawns again. Usually, this is the part of the call where Jacob would as subtly as possible (i.e. not very) try to keep the client on the phone and possibly rack up enough cash to order take-out later in the week.

"Go to sleep, kitten." Jacob lies back on his bed and tries to shut out the thoughts of all the other clients he'll have to deal with tonight. "'M sure you've got a big day of licking yourself and playing with catnip ahead of you."

"I'll lick you," Troye mumbles. Jacob shakes his head and falls back onto his own pillow, covering his face with his hand. "G'night, Jake."

"G'night, kitten."

When the phone rings next, Jacob doesn't answer. It'll get redirected. If his boss asks, he'll say he was in the bathroom. Which he was, staring at himself in the mirror and wondering when a teenage virgin got him so whipped.

+++

"You're coming out tonight."

"I have plans," Troye says automatically. Jedidiah and Adam look good, in their shiny shirts and tight trousers, and Troye likes going out, usually, but. He also does have plans, plans that he likes quite a bit more than drunkenly looking for random men to rub off against in toilets.

"You have plans to wank off alone in your room with you new dildo," Jedidiah says, pointing an accusing finger at Troye that pokes into his nose. "We have better plans for you."

Jedidiah's... not wrong, but he doesn't get it. "I don't want to go to some straight bar and fend off older women again, Jedidiah," Troye whines. "Remember last time, when one of my mum's friends almost recognized me?"

"We're not going back there," Adam says confidently. His hand is resting on Jedidiah's hip, and Troye stares at it, flushing a little with jealousy when he sees how easy and physical the affection between them is.

"It was pretty funny, though, seeing him hide behind that potted plant." Jedidiah grins as he glances at Adam, who squeezes his hip.

"Not helping your case, babe." Adam turns back to Troye "You're coming with us to a gay bar."

Troye worries his lip. "I don't know..."

"Don't act like you weren't begging us to go with you a few months ago," Jedidiah says. His pointed finger makes a reappearance. Troye covers his nose.

"That was before you were dating." Troye pouts at both of them. "If I'm the third wheel at a gay bar, it's going to be obvious I'm desperate to get laid."

"You are." Jedidiah slings an arm around Adam's neck, as if to remind himself that he is not in Troye's predicament. "You're so desperate to get laid that we're desperate for you to get laid. Put on your tight jeans and let's go."

+++

Going out was a good idea for about forty minutes. Troye gets a little drunk, laughs at Adam getting a lot drunk, dances provocatively with Jedidiah while Adam is taking shots and ogling go-go dancers, and singing along loudly to the boy band anthems that Adam is embarrassed Jedidiah and Troye both know the words to.

Around ten o'clock, though—just around the time he'd usually be calling Jacob—Troye finds himself in the middle of the dance floor, having been separated from Adam and Jedidiah by the current of people. He's a little disoriented and a little lonely and surrounded by a lot of bodies, pressing in around him and each other like they want nothing more in the world, and at least one of those bodies seems to want him.

"Hey," the guy says into Troye's ear, before immediately nuzzling at the nape of his neck.

"Hi," Troye says back. His voice gets lost in the music.

"What's your name?" the guy shouts into his ear.

"Troye," he shouts back. His throat feels dry.

The guy mumbles something—probably a name—and Troye doesn't catch it. The next thing he says, though, is loud and relatively clear.

"You wanna dance, Troye?"

Troye doesn't get a good look at him before he nods. The guy's hands settle on Troye's hips and he kisses Troye's shoulder before Troye even steps back into him. Then Troye does step back into him and the man's chest is solid behind Troye's back and his cock is half-hard and nestled against Troye's arse. It's the surprise of it as much as the rhythm of the music that has Troye grinding back against his cock before he thinks about what he's doing.

There's nothing wrong with this guy. He's warm and here and he wants Troye and that should be enough—it is enough, to get Troye hard and rocking back against the guy because he can't help but want to feel more. He can feel himself clench just from suggestion, from the guy's cock grinding against the cleft of Troye's arse. The friction of Troye's cock just against his jeans is slight, but maddening—it reminds him of the time Jacob made him come just stroking over his cock with two fingers.

Jacob.

It's no surprise that Troye's thoughts fly to Jacob while he's hard—he's been coming to Jacob's voice every day for more than a week now—but what is a surprise (though maybe it shouldn't be) is how strongly his thoughts jar him out of the moment, making him feel almost sober, even as the thrum of the music carries everyone around him in its tihrall. Troye takes a step out of the guy's reach, rubbing his forehead.

"It's getting, um, hot in here," Troye says, not even hearing himself over the beat. He turns to face the guy. "I think I'm gonna—" He jerks his head in some direction that is away.

The guy doesn't take his hand off Troye's waist. "I'll come with," Troye reads on the guy's lips. His head feels like it's going to split in half from the music.

"I—oh. Oh, no, sorry, I'd love to—but I actually wouldn't, sorry, I'm just—"

Troye pulls away from the man and sets off in what he thinks is the direction of the bathroom, though he's gotten a little disoriented by all the spinning and grinding and... fuck. Troye stumbles into the bathroom and only then notices that standing up straight is a little more difficult than usual. He splashes some water on his face and feels... marginally better but still mostly like shit, to be honest. He's sweaty and hard and doesn't know where his friends are and he just wants to close his eyes and have someone take care of him until he's tucked into his own bed.

Oh, and fuck him. He'd really like somebody to fuck him right about now.

Not just any somebody, though. Troye doesn't have time to wonder if he's going to regret this before he dials Jacob's number.

+++

It's eleven-thirty, an hour and a half past the time Troye usually calls Jacob, and Jacob's getting a little more despondent with every middle-aged man he pretends to spread his legs for. He thought nothing could be worse than going back to taking other calls after spending half an hour on the phone with an actual cherub crafted specifically for him in sex heaven, but going without talking to Troye proves to be worse by far.

"Hello there," Jacob says as he takes his third call in ten minutes. Everyone seems to get more desperate as the night goes on. Jacob thinks his toenails could use a trim.

"Jacob," the voice from the phone whines, and Jacob straightens up immediately. "D-Daddy."

"Troye?" Jacob gets up and goes into his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Thought you'd forgotten about me, little love." He tries not to sound too disappointed.

"Didn't, I didn't." Troye's—a little more sincere than necessary. Like he's drunk.

"Are you all right, baby?" Jacob's not one to judge possibly-underage alcohol use, but his chest still tightens a little.

"I'm—" Suddenly a loud burst of club music blasts over the phone, ending as quickly as it came, and Troye sighs. There's a thud like he's banging his head against a wall.

"Where are you?" Jacob's sexy phone voice is totally absent, replaced with worry, but Troye doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm... at a club." Troye hiccups. He's clearly been drinking, though he's not slurring his words. "They—my friends, they thought I needed... sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Did you—" Jacob cuts off. He's really not in any place to be asking if Troye hooked up with anyone. It's absolutely none of his business, but—Troye sounds so apologetic, and a little bit of punishment would go well with this Daddy thing they've got going on, and Troye would never have to know that Jacob might (might) be jealous of the idea of Troye, his Troye, letting strangers put their hands all over him.

"I'm so hard." Troye sighs like he has no idea what to do about it. "Daddy."k

Well. Jacob is only human—he's hard as fuck hearing Troye call for him like that, and he grips his cock through his trackies to relieve a little bit of the pressure. Still. "How much have you had to drink, baby?"

"Two..." Troye hums like he's thinking and trails off. "Fruity things? Dunno what they're called. Bunch of hours ago. 'M okay now, I promise."

"All right." Refusing service to clients who are obviously intoxicated isn't a rule anyone his company cares about, but Troye is different. Jacob doesn't want Troye to regret anything they ever do together. "Touch yourself for me, baby," he says, and Troye immediately says mhmmmm. "Get your hand around your cock."

"Thank you," Troye breathes, and Jacob can hear him shuffle his feet a little. He must be in the club bathroom, as there's a bit of an echo as Troye undoes his jeans and starts to pump his hand over his cock. "Th-thank you, Daddy, I'm sorry."

Fuck. Troye keeps apologizing and Jacob just has to know why. "Have you been a slut, Troye?" Jacob bites his lip and starts to stroke himself faster as Troye whimpers at the word. "Letting strange men touch you?"

"No," Troye says quickly, too quickly. "No, I—"

"Tell me the truth, Troye."

"Sorry." Jacob can hear the pace of Troye's jerking off quicken, skin slapping loudly against skin. "'M sorry."

"It's okay, baby," Jacob says, and he means it, because it means he gets to do this. He settles back onto his mattress, cradling his phone against his ear while his hand works around his cock. "Tell me what they did to you."

Precome dribbles from the slit of Jacob's cock as he listens to Troye's breath hitch, over and over, like he keeps forgetting to breathe. Jacob swipes it up with his thumb and then smooths it over his shaft as Troye answers, "Danced. We danced."

"Where did they touch you?" Jacob lick a stripe up his hand, tasting his precome before returning his hand to his cock with a grunt.

"Hands." Troye lets out little ah and starts humming in time with his strokes. "Hands, on my—hips, he kissed my neck, and my—"

"Did you grind back against his cock, baby?" Jacob pictures it. In his mind, Troye's all slight angles and soft curves and curls. Well—in his mind, Troye is also his, but the picture of him bent over with chewing on his lip while his little arse grinds back against any stranger behind him isn't the worst in the world.

"I—" Troye lets out a choked off-sound as there's another blast of music, like the bathroom door's swung open. The door closes again, but Jacob can hear the distant echo of voices, and can't hear Troye working quickly over his cock, but. Something about the minute whimper coming over the phone tells him that Troye hasn't stopped entirely. God, he's so eager with Jacob, Jacob can't help but buck his hips up, his cock fucking through his fist, and moaning unabashedly.

"Tell me the truth, baby," Jacob says, voice deep with arousal. "Tell me now and maybe I'll let you come."

"I did," Troye whispers, urgency rising in his voice even as Jacob hears people laughing in the background and knows there's a good chance Troye will be overheard. "It felt so good I couldn't stop—"

"Did you let him fuck you?" Jacob says back, matching Troye's low tone. He drops his cock for a moment, letting his hand drop down to circle around his rim. "Did you come with his hands all over you?"

Another short blast of club music, then Troye says louder, "No, no, Daddy, thinking about you. Couldn't—couldn't, without you, please."

"Couldn't come without me, baby?" Jacob no longer tries to keep his voice steady, letting Troye hear how much he's getting to him. "Need my voice? Or is it my permission?"

"Both." Troye is loud now, desperation overcoming fear of discovery. Jacob can hear his wrist working quick over his cock. "Both, please, let me—"

"Keep touching yourself," Jacob says, and Troye lets out a frustrated nngh but doesn't stop jerking himself off frantically. "Should I let you come, baby? Do you think you deserve it?"

"I—" Troye groans pitifully. "I don't know, I wanna, please—"

"Couldn't even wait 'til you got home?" Troye loves when Jacob teases him like this, and Jacob can tell it's pushing both of them closer and closer. "What if I made you wait 'til you're home?"

Troye mewls and pants for a second, like he's trying to figure if he can, but. "No, can't wait anymore, I need you Daddy please—"

Jacob holds onto the moment before he comes as long as he can, his mind swimming in Daddy and please and need you, before he gasps out, "Come," and spills over himself just as Troye cries and uh uh uhs through his own orgasm.

Troye's aftershocks keep him whimpering after Jacob's already finished. "Thank you," Troye whispers, and then keens again.

Jacob inhales deeply, flexing his come-covered hand over his torso and, after only considering it for a moment, says, "Don't stop jerking yourself off."

Jacob's not sure what he expects Troye to say, but—okay, he expects him to say, no or fuck off or maybe please don't make me because he's a good boy for Jacob, but in spite of that Jacob absolutely does not expect him to just... do it.

But Troye does. Jacob can hear him jerking himself off with even more clarity, with the lubrication provided by Troye's first load of come. He keeps jerking himself off slowly, methodically, even as he whines, "Hurts."

Jacob is overwhelmed by his affection for this boy. "You know you can say no whenever you want," he says gently. God, he can't even think about touching his own cock right now, not even to clean it off, but Troye's making arousal stir in his gut against just by being so good. "But it'd make me really happy if you kept fucking your hand until you come again for me."

"Yes." Troye sounds a little miserable—god, his dick must feel like it's on fire—but then he clears his throat and speaks a little more clearly. "Yes, Daddy, whatever you say."

Jacob just listens to Troye for a while, fucking his hand slowly, like he's trying to relish it, not like Jacob's putting him through some kind of torture. For a while, Jacob's lost for words.

"Should punish you worse than this," he says eventually, as Troye's whimpers of pain start to seem more like pleasure. "Should take you over my knee and spank that slutty little arse."

"Oh god." Troye picks up the pace of his strokes and Jacob wishes his own dick would stop aching, Jesus, but instead of touching himself he just sucks the come off one of his fingers.

"Would you like that?" Jacob prompts, and Troye hums. "Would you like being bent over for me, so I could smack you like you deserve, make your arse all tingly and red?"

"Oh—oh, please—" There's a thunk, like Troye's banged his head against the wall again, and Jacob swirls his own come around in his mouth for a moment, wishing he could see his boy now.

"You're impossible to punish," Jacob says, with a small sigh. "You'll love everything I do to you."

"I do." Troye whines as he fucks into his hand desperately. "Daddy, I do, I love it, I love—" He breaks off, panting. "Can I—fingers—"

Jacob tuts. "Don't hurt yourself, darling."

"Lube," Troye mumbles, "'ve got lube."

Jacob frowns as he's reaching for a tissue to clean off the rest of his come. "Were you planning to get fucked, baby?"

"No," Troye insists, as if it's important to him that Jacob knows. As if they have any kind of agreement that would make that not okay. "Just—I keep it in my pocket."

Jacob's cock is still sensitive as he wipes traces of come off his head. He can't imagine how Troye must be feeling, on so many levels. "So you can fuck yourself in club bathrooms, hmm?"

"Wherever," Troye whines desperately. He bangs his head back against the wall again. "Daddy, want you wherever, please—"

Jacob considers it for a moment. "You're all dirty," he says, shaking his head to himself. "You can fuck yourself later, when you're showered and tucked in bed. Now I just want you to make yourself come again."

"Still hurts." Troye doesn't say it like he can't do it, just like it's hard. "'M sticky."

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" Jacob glances over at his clock and realizes with a bolt of pleasure that this will be his last call of the night. Good. "Working to please your daddy." Nothing will top this, he thinks, for a long time.

"Yes," Troye agrees miserably. He works himself up to the wicked pace that brought him over the edge the last time. "Yes, I feel—please—"

"Come for me again, baby," Jacob says gently. "Whenever you can. Let me hear you, pleasing me so well."

It takes another minute or two—Jacob's just starting to think he might be able to go again, hearing Troye whimper in pleasure as he fucks his hand—but then Troye's crying out Daddy and choking off moans, and Jacob knows he's done just as Jacob asks, just like he always does.

"Thank you," Troye breathes out, as soon as his moans pass. He sounds the soberest he has all night.

"Thank you," Jacob replies, quietly. He wonders for a moment what on earth he did to deserve this. Then Troye sighs happily and Jacob clears his throat. "Are you all right to get home?"

"Yeah." Troye inhales shakily. "Yeah, Jedidiah's cousin is giving us both a ride."

"So you're going straight home?" Jacob's never been much of a worrier, but... here he is, worrying.

"In like, fifteen minutes, I think." Troye swallows. "He texted me while... um, a few minutes ago."

Jacob nods to himself. "Make sure you drink some water."

"Will do, Daddy." Troye giggles good-naturedly, and Jacob smiles reflexively, then lets out a hmmph.

"Just—be careful."

"What, so I don't end up drunk and covered in come in the toilets?" Troye giggles again, then sucks his finger into his mouth, Jesus. "Bit late for that."

Jacob was wrong. Troye isn't his sex cherub, he's a devil. He shakes his head. "Text me when you get home."

Troye is quiet for a minute. "I didn't think I could text this line."

"You can't. I'm giving you my number."

Jacob could technically get fired for this, he realizes as he reads out the digits to his cell phone number to Troye. Well, not technically. He could definitely get fired for this. Or, perhaps more pertinently, Troye could turn out to be an elaborate cover for one of his creepier old clients and Jacob could be inviting himself to get harassed or stalked. He knows that, and he knows changing his number is such a fucking hassle, but if anyone ever asks him what on earth he was thinking, giving his personal number out to a client, he'll just play this call back for them and ask what he was supposed to do. Troye is vulnerable and precious and Jacob just—anyone would feel the need to keep him safe.

An hour later, after his shift has ended and a thousand scenarios of terrible things that could happen to drunk teenagers at clubs and in cars have gone through Jacob's head, Troye texts him: home safe, daddy, you can stop worrying.

Jacob replies with two xs. Troye responds with an emoji of an ant before going offline. Jacob stares at the ant for a full two minutes before feeling the strong urge to wake Adam up and have a drink himself.

+++

H: sorry about last night... don't really remember, I was pretty drunk

L: it's all right, little one. No bother . Xx

H: must've sounded a right mess to make you want to check in on me

Troye means to send a frog emoji, but instead he hits Call Contact and his eyes bulge out of his head as "Calling... Daddy <3 <3 <3" pops up on his screen.

He should just end the call, but... hanging up on Jacob feels wrong, even like this. Troye is way too attached. The call connects

"Oops!" Troye fumbles as he pulls the phone up to his ear. "Um—"

"Hi," Jacob says. He sounds significantly more chipper than he usually answers his work phone. Something churns in Troye's gut as he wonders what other things about Jacob-off-work he doesn't know.

"Hiiiii," he says, glancing around his room frantically like one of his band posters might be able to solve his dilemma. "I didn't mean to call you. Sorry, I'll—"

"I'm glad you did." Jacob continues to sound chipper. "How are you?"

"Good." Troye's voice has never been this mangled in his life. He's giving himself a headache. "I'm—well, hungover, you know."

"I'm sure," Jacob says with a bit of a laugh. "Did you have a good night, anyway?"

Troye frowns at his The Script poster. "It... well, it ended all right. You know." Has Jacob forgotten what happened? What is even happening?

"Hmm." Jacob's tone becomes a bit more guarded. "I've got a shift starting in five—"

"Of course," Troye says, even though his subconscious screams ignore those people talk to me instead, "I'll just—"

"You'll call later, though, yeah? Our usual time."

Troye bites his lip. Like there was any doubt. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Thought we might try something different. If you're up for it."

"Yes," Troye says, before realizing what he should have said. "I mean. What is it?"

"Well, you seemed pretty into the idea of me spanking you."

Jacob doesn't laugh. Troye does, a little.

"I—" He cuts off his nervous giggle. "Um. Yeah."

"You think you'd like to do that for me?" Jacob's—not teasing, but it's like he's trying to coax the answer he wants out of Troye.

"Yes." Troye closes his eyes and pictures himself bent over with his arse all red for Jacob. "Yes," he repeats, and tries to think of something more to say, but he can't.

"Great," Jacob says, softly. There's silence for a moment, then Jacob clears his throat and adds, "If you've got, um, some kind of lotion on hand, it'll be better."

Troye looks down at his hands, imagining what they'd look like laying into his arse. "I'll look."

"And a wooden spoon, if you want," Jacob adds as an afterthought.

"Jesus Christ."

"Just if you want," Jacob says off-handedly, like the idea hasn't made Troye start to get uncomfortably hard in his work trousers.

Troye swallows. "I... let's try?"

"Great." Troye can hear Jacob's smile. "Talk to you later, Troye."

"Thanks." Troye grins to himself, then fumbles, "I mean—bye, Jacob."

Jacob laughs. "See you, babe."

Babe sounds a lot like baby, Troye thinks in a daze as he finishes getting ready for work.

+++

Troye's already hard by the time he calls Jacob that night. In itself, that isn't that unusual. What's unusual is how he got that way while rooting around in his mother's cutlery drawer.

"Hello, sexy," Jacob says, his generic opening.

Troye frowns. He knows that Jacob isn't just his, he just... doesn't like the reminder. "Daddy."

"Hi, baby." Jacob's voice softens immediately, becoming warm and fond. "Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Yep." Troye taps the flat end of the spoon against his palm nervously. "Um, some of my mum's hand lotion, and... the spoon has slots, is that all right?"

"Should be fine." Troye hears Jacob shuffle around—it seems like he always does that when Troye calls, which Troye likes to think makes him special. "How are you feeling?"

Troye considers it for a moment, worrying his lip while he taps the spoon against his hand again. "Naughty," Troye decides eventually, slipping into his small, soft voice. "Like... like I need to be punished."

"We can do that for you, kitten," Jacob says reassuringly. "Are you naked for me?"

"Mhmm." Troye's clothes are strewn all across the room, he was so eager to get out of them before he called Jacob. He kneels on his bed and runs a hand nervously up and down his thigh until Jacob's instructions come.

"Want you to stand up, lean against the wall a little with your arse stuck out. Bring the spoon."

"Okay," Troye says, relieved, and he rushes to obey. "Okay, I am." He clutches the spoon in his hand and glances over at his closed door, even though no one will be home for hours. It feels like something big is about to happen.

"Can you put me on speaker phone?"

"Y-yeah, hold on." Troye puts the phone down on his nightstand and returns to his position quickly.

"Good boy," Jacob praises, and Troye blushes a little. He feels like he hasn't earned that yet, but... he'll take it. "Listen, I know you like being good for me, yeah?" The nonchalant way Jacob acknowledges it deepens Troye's flush, but he hums his agreement. "But this is something we haven't tried before, so if I tell you to do something you don't want to do, I want you to tell me, yeah? You can say safeword if you want."

"Okay," Troye says. His head spins a little at the knowledge that what they're about to do requires a safeword, but it's an exciting spin, just as exciting as everything always is with Jacob. He leans his forehead against the wall and breathes deeply.

"Put the spoon down next to the phone and knead your arse for me." Jacob's commanding voice is firm but not unkind, like he's setting Troye a task he knows he can complete. Troye nods to himself and complies, leaning his cheek against the wall as he works his fingers over the swell of his arse, sighing.

"Feels good," he says, barely loud enough for it to reach the phone, then moans loudly when he accidentally brushes up against his puckered hole.

"Wish I could get my hands on that tight little arse," Jacob says, almost as if he's talking to himself. "You moan so pretty for me, love, even over the phone."

"Daddy." Troye spreads his legs and moans again as he grips his arse cheeks firmly. "Want you to touch me."

"Are you hard yet, kitten?"

"Mhmmm," Troye says, his voice going high. He pushes his arse out a little more and feels his cock bob against his thigh. "Really hard. Can I touch?"

"Not yet, baby," Jacob says apologetically. He clears his throat. "Now, why do you need to be punished?"

"I was bad." Troye closes his eyes and turns his face into the wall. "Let the other man touch me."

"Give yourself a spank on each cheek."

Troye releases his arse and then spanks both cheeks roughly at once. "Shit." It feels better than Troye thought it could, just one spank—surely he's hit his bum that hard before, some way or another—but the purpose of it, the intention, makes Troye's nipples harden and precome dribble down the shaft of his rock-hard cock.

"You were a slut," Jacob says, more matter-of-factly than angrily, and Troye whimpers and nods into the wall. "I want to hear you say it."

"I'm—" The word gets stuck in Troye's throat. He's way more turned on by this than he ever thought he would be, even given his recent discovery for his love of fucking himself at the command of strangers on the phone and calling them Daddy. "I was a slut," he whispers, and his arse clenches. "I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't want to be bad—"

"Spank yourself again," Jacob says, cutting him off. "Harder, one on each cheek."

Troye hits himself first on the right cheek, and it's even better than the first time. "Oh," he says, leaning heavily against the wall. The spank on his left cheek sends a thrill up his spine that leaves him desperate for more. "Oh, D-Daddy..."

"You're not bad, baby." Jacob's voice is kind. "Just need to be reminded who you belong to, right?"

"You." Troye grinds his arse back against nothing, as a kind of penance. "Yours, just yours."

"That's right, baby." Jacob doesn't seem cross, just soothing. "Gonna show Daddy how good you are?"

"Please." Troye's palms itch to make contact with the soft skin of his arse again. "Please."

"Three more times on each cheek, starting soft but getting harder."

Troye nods to himself, and reaches around to tap lightly at his right arse cheek. "One." He barely feels it, then goes considerably harder on the next. "Two," he says, choking up a little and swiftly landing his hardest spank yet, "three." He exhales long and slow.

"See, love?" Troye can hear Jacob let out a little grunt, like he's started jerking off. "You're not bad, doing so good for me. Daddy's so pleased with you."

The next three strikes are consistently harder than the last. "One." Troye's arse clenches and he bites his lip. "Two." His hand is starting to sting a little with every spank, not to mention his arse. "Three, fuck."

"How's that feel, love?"

"Daddy," Troye whimpers. "Stings, but... not a lot." He pauses before deciding, "More, please."

"Of course, baby." Jacob sounds delighted. "You want the spoon now?"

"Yes." This is a new feeling, but Troye knows he wants more. He retrieves the spoon and positions it just over his arse, and his cock twitches just from the feeling of hovering, waiting for it.

"Tap it lightly, just to see how it feels."

Troye hits himself with the spoon a bit harder than Jacob asks, once on each cheek. Each thwack sends a tingle shooting through his body, going directly to his cock. Wow. Troye gasps out loud. He can't remember every enjoying his arse hurting so much, but maybe it's just never happened while his cock was already aching. He spanks himself once more, automatically, thrusting his arse back into it before fucking his cock back forward into nothing. "More," he gasps. "More, more—"

"On my count, Troye."

"Yes, sir." Troye wets his lips and rubs the spoon over his arse for a moment. His arse jiggles under the touch of the wood, and he wants. "Daddy. Please."

"Want you to alternate, kitten. Not too soft, but not as hard as you can, until I tell you to." Jacob's voice gets a little more rough, and Troye thinks he must be jerking off to this, to the sound of Troye spanking his own arse for him, and that's half of the reason he chokes on air when he spanks himself firmly on one.

"Thank you," Troye says in a daze. A delicious thrill runs through him, but it's over all too soon.

"Two," Jacob continues, and Troye smacks his other arse cheek with the spoon, letting out a hnnngh and bracing his forearm against the wall. "Harder, kitten, I need to hear you. You tell me before it gets to be too much, right?"

"Yes," Troye croaks, flexing his fingers against the wall. "Not too much. More."

The flashes of heat accompanying three and four last a little longer, and Jacob praises Troye for how good he's doing, how clearly Jacob can hear him through the phone. He keeps up a swift counting page, so Troye can't really work himself up to a proper hard swing, just hitting himself so quickly he can barely react to the smack of one spank before he's landing the next. His whole arse is starting to feel warm and red, and so that eventually each spank starts to make him tense and clench even while it adds to the growing pool of heat stirring in his stomach, making little drops of precome bead out of his slit and down his untouched shaft. The spoon hurts, and his shoulder is starting to get sore from maintaining his position, but it also gets more and more satisfying as Jacob starts dropping in things like thirty-five, doing so well baby, thirty-six, keep your red little arse thrust out for me. Around fifty, just when his arse is starting to throb a little even without laying into it any more, Jacob stops counting.

"How are you feeling, kitten?"

"So good." Troye closes his eyes and rubs the tip of the spoon between his cheeks, rocking his hips back and forth so that his hard cock rubs up against his tummy. His arse continues throbbing dully and Troye doesn't know if he wants to stop or if he wants to ask for more, but Jacob will tell him. That alone has him pumping his hips forward again. He keens as he gets a smear of precome on his tummy. "Can I touch, Daddy?"

"Not yet, baby." There's a click and rustling over the phone, like Jacob's just put Troye on speaker. "Want you to open yourself up for me, though, can you do that?"

"Yes." Troye drops the spoon in his excitement and winces as he bends down to pick it up, arse stinging. "Are you going to fuck me, Daddy?"

"Yeah, kitten." Jacob lets out a strained breath. "Gonna fuck you while your arse is all red and hot for me, how does that sound?"

"Please." Troye scrambles to get the lube and his vibrator out of the drawer over which the phone is perched, and he can hear every single heavy breath Jacob takes into the phone.

"Just fingers, for now, love," Jacob says, as if he can see Troye's mouth water as runs his hand down the shaft of the toy. "Want you to spank yourself a little more before I fuck you."

"Yes, Daddy." Troye pouts a little as he places the glittery dick next to the phone.

"Back in the position you were. Keep the spoon handy."

Troye presses his head against the wall, drizzles lube over his fingers, then tosses the lube back to the drawer and thrusts his arse out. "'M ready."

"You know what to do, baby. Open yourself up for my cock."

Troye whimpers as he slides his first finger in to the knuckle. It gets easier every day for him to sink his fingers into his arse, without needing to coax his rim open gently first with soothing little circles. Part of it's that he's fucking himself so consistently, he knows, but he thinks it's also got something to do with how Jacob manages to turn him on more and more every single day. Bracing himself against the wall with his head, Troye gropes his arse with his free hand, pulling the reddened cheek back so he can thrust into himself easier, plunge his two fingers in and out and twirl them around and stroke the tight heat around him. It feels so fucking good just around his fingers, he thinks as he scissors himself open. He's absolutely greedy for the warm smoothness against his fingertips, the friction against his rim. He can't imagine how good a real cock would feel, how good he could make Jacob feel by being so tight and open for him at the same time.

He tries to imagine anyway, and ends up moaning and riding back against his fingers until Jacob tells him to stop.

"Pick up the spoon again, kitten, and give yourself twenty as hard as you can. Count for me."

The pain in Troye's arse has gone down enough that he doesn't expect the first spank to hurt as much as it does, and he gasps, pressing his cheek against the wall and rubbing over his arse gently with the spoon a moment. "One," he croaks. The second he lands just as harshly, even knowing how bad it'll hurt. "Two." All the heat that had been building in his bum blossoms anew and is joined by the fresh sting of the wood. Troye has to go slower than before, because it takes time to wind up to a good smack, but it's even better to feel the aftershocks of each individual spank, the way his arse clenches

"Twenty," Troye gasps, and he drops the spoon. "God, oh god," he feels like he's on fire and now that there's no fresh pain to distract him from the old, it just washes over him like a wave, so that he's crying into the wall and kneading his arse cheeks with both hands while they sting and throb.

"Good boy, my good boy, Troye, I'm so proud of you, love, are you all right, baby? Talk to me."

Troye lets out two more sobs before he straightens up, cock bobbing as hard as it's ever been between his legs in spite of the burn of his arse as he goes to the phone.

"Fuck me." Troye's voice is high but mangled in his throat. "Please, fuck." He puts his wet hand on the vibrator but waits for Jacob's word.

"'Course, baby, yes." Jacob sounds relieved. "Lube up the toy for me, Troye. Want you face down, arse up on the bed, phone by your ear."

"Yes," Troye says, half submission, half excitement, as he grabs the shaft of the toy and smears the lube on his hand over it. He squeezes more lube down the shaft and then goes to the bed, putting the phone by his pillow while he kneels and coats the lube around the toy. With every slight change of position his arse stings afresh, and the pain and satisfaction of what he's just done has him scrambling to get his arse up in the air as quickly as he can, whispering ready as he positions the dildo between his spanked-red cheeks, nudging at his stretched hole.

"Go on, baby," Jacob encourages. The phone is still on speaker so his voice is loud near Troye's ear but Troye likes how he feels that much closer to him now, while he's breaching his rim with the toy he's come to think of as Jacob's cock.

"Daddy," Troye whines, rocking his hips back and forth to push the dildo deeper inside of him and searching for any friction on his cock, but his leaking tip only just barely glances against his stomach and that just makes the tension building up inside him harder to bear. He's not going to be able to last, not when he can feel how bruised his arse is beneath his hands as he pushes in to the hilt, the hot and sensitive flesh making him clench down hard around the toy.

"Turn it on and go slow." Jacob's voice feels distant but close, like it's the decision-making part of his own brain, pushed far away. "Let me hear you while you fuck yourself for me."

Troye yelps as the toy bumps against his prostate just as he turns on the vibrations. He wants so much to be good but he can't help but fuck back onto the vibrator in short, quick spurts, pressing the tip against spot over and over until he's already moaning so loud he's almost shouting, burying his face in his pillow as he pushes his arse higher into the air, groping at the cheeks while he fucks himself closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," he begs, not to touch his cock, he doesn't need it, he just needs Jacob's word, "please I'm so close—"

Jacob's own belabored breathing comes to a head when he hears Troye beg. "Just—now," Jacob pants, "come now, baby," and that's all it takes, Jacob's command, the thought that Jacob was waiting until he was close, that has Troye shouting and spurting untouched onto the bed while Jacob groans through his own release in Troye's ear.

Before he's fully come down, while he's pushing his messy sheets aside so he can collapse onto the bed, Jacob's voice prickles in his ear. "How was that, love?"

"Good." Troye flips onto his back and squirms a little. His arse feels hot against the cool sheets, and it reminded him what he just did, and that's almost enough to make Troye want to go again in itself. "The best, Daddy, you're the best."

"Wish I was there to look after you," Jacob sighs. "I'm so proud of you, baby. Best boy in the world."

"Your boy," Troye mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Mine," Jacob echoes.

Jacob talks Troye through applying lotion to his arse, then lets him play with his hole and rut into the sheets until he comes again. Even after that, Troye lingers on the line. He doesn't hang up until he's almost fallen asleep. Jacob fusses, says he'll stay with Troye as long as he needs but will he please call back on Jacob's regular number, Troye doesn't need to be wasting his money. Troye might be stubborn, but he refuses to hang up while Jacob keeps muttering such a good boy for me in his ear.

He's draining his savings for this fantasy, he figures. He should be allowed to pretend it was real from the start.

+++

Troye doesn't call the next night at his usual time. Or later. Jacob's whole shift is taken up pretending to jack off with middle-aged men who come within two minutes. He spends most of that time debating whether or not it's appropriate to call Troye himself and ask what's up that when his shift finally ends and he dials Troye's number in frustration, he realizes he's forgotten to come up with something to say.

"Jacob?" Sheets rustling. Troye sounds like he's just woken up. Jacob barely knows what Troye sounds like out of bed. This was a bad idea.

"Hi," Jacob squeaks. What the fuck? Jacob talks on the telephone for a living, there's no reason for him to get so choked up. "I just—" He swallows and wishes he'd thought to keep water next to him, like he does when he's on a shift. "Just wanted to see if you're all right. After last night."

Troye yawns and takes a minute to respond. "'M good. 'M really good."

"You didn't call." God, Jacob must sound so petty.

"No, I had my parents' anniversary party." Troye sounds apologetic. That's either relieving or mortifying, Jacob can't decide. "Sorry. I should've told you. I didn't think it'd go this late, but I just got home, and like. I figured you were off already."

"No, of course—" Jacob cuts off. Yeah, Troye didn't have to tell him he was busy that night, but. Jacob doesn't want to make it seem like he doesn't care. "I was just worried it'd gone, er, too far. That you were cross with me."

Troye laughs out loud. "My bum's a bit cross with you, to be honest." Jacob thinks about Troye's arse covered in red marks Jacob told him to put there, then rubs at his temples while his cock twitches in his pants. God, he's in this deep. "It was nice, though," Troye continues.

"Nice." Jacob scoffs. "That's all?"

"Incredible," Troye says. He yawns again, but comes back sounding more awake. "Mind-blowing. Never want to sit down without feeling like death again. I'm a changed man."

Jacob hums. "That's more like it." He pauses. "Does it really still hurt though?"

"Nah. 'Cept when I give it a bit of a swat, it's a bit tender still."

"You been doing a lot of that?" Jacob finds himself saying before he can think better of it.

Troye swallows. "Just a couple times. See if it felt as good as I remember it."

"And?" Jacob prompts. He'd honestly called just to see if Troye was all right, but. If Troye's in the mood to talk about his arse, Jacob isn't going to deprive him of the opportunity.

"Can we—" Troye cuts off before continuing, his voice sounding a little rougher, though still kittenish. "Can I call you back on the other line?"

"Sorry, kitten, I'm off for the night."

"Oh." Troye's voice falls audibly. "Oh, of course. That's fine."

Jacob rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you sound fine."

"I am fine." Troye lets out a hmph. "I'm not an animal."

"'Course not, kitten. You definitely don't get hard just from my voice."

"Shut up." Troye's voice is muffled, like he's speaking into a pillow. Jacob was totally right. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and doesn't wipe the obscene smile off his face.

"You want to come for me, baby?" Jacob rests his hand on the bulge of his cock in his briefs, just holding it, waiting for Troye to give him to go-ahead.

Troye mumbles something unintelligible.

"Gotta speak up, kitten."

Troye clears his throat. "'S always for you. When I come. Always thinking about you." Troye pauses, then adds, "Idiot."

Jacob's completely hard in an instant, palming his cock and barely repressing a grunt. "Aren't you precious." Jacob inhales sharply and pulls his dick out of his pants, gripping it firmly and reminding himself to calm the fuck down. "Don't want to leave you hanging, then."

"I—" Troye cuts off. Jacob takes the opportunity for Daddy to cut in.

"Are you touching yourself for me, baby?"

Troye inhales deeply. "Not yet."

"Waiting for permission?" Troye's sure to say yes either way, but Jacob smiles at the thought.

Troye sounds sheepish. "Feels better when you tell me to."

Jacob's heart leaps into his throat. "You can wait, then." Troye hums softly. "What are you wearing?"

"Just boxers."

"Off." Jacob says the word, and Troye immediately shuffles to comply. Fuck, it's such a rush, to be trusted like that—Jacob's always had a bit of a thing for sexual power trips, he wouldn't be so good at being a sex line operator if he didn't, but it's been ages since it's been like this.

"Want you to feel up your arse for me, baby," Jacob says, and Troye immediately breathes yes. A moment later, Troye's whimpering into the phone. Jacob can imagine him spread out on his bed, fingers digging into the flesh that may no longer be red, but is surely still sensitive. "Feel good?"

"Yeah," Troye sighs. "Please." He always says that, like he's helpless for what to do about how good he feels unless Jacob tells him what to do with it.

Fortunately, Jacob's not lacking for ideas. "Give yourself a good spank for me, darling."

Troye doesn't say anything, but the next thing Jacob hears is a harsh slap and a low mmm. "How's that feel?"

"Good." Troye breathes in and out deeply before continuing. "So good, please."

"Are you alone at home?" Jacob always asks now, since the threat of Troye being walked in on is always much more appealing than it actually happening, as that one incident with the dog proved.

"N-no." Troye sighs.

"Can't give you more, then, you know that." Troye lets out a hmmmph. "Another time, kitten. For now you can fuck yourself for me."

"Yes, please." Troye sounds so fucking pleased, what else is Jacob supposed to do but tug on his cock roughly? "Please, I want to."

"Get your things out," Jacob instructs, reaching for his own lube. Before Troye he'd usually jack off dry, but when he can hear the wet sound of Troye working a plastic cock into his own arse, it feels so much better to get his hand wet and pretend that the pressure of his fist is a remotely suitable substitute for how tight Troye's arse would feel around him.

Troye hums. "Already got it."

"Good boy," Jacob says, and Troye preens. "Want you to suck the vibe first, yeah? Get it nice and wet, I want to hear you."

"Yes, Daddy." Troye licks up the sides of the vibrator first, like Jacob taught him, so that when he wraps his lips around the plastic, it slides into his mouth easily, and he hums around it like he's already got several inches inside him. Jacob grip on his cock tightens, and he struggles to keep his strokes slow so he won't blow his load just from hearing Troye struggle with choking himself on a plastic cock

"You like that?" Jacob bites back a moan as Troye says mhmmmmm and gags a little, like he's trying to go farther than he really can. "You sound so good, princess, got me so hard hearing you."

Troye pulls off with a wet smack of his lips, and says, in a fucked-out voice, "Wish it was you." He hums as he takes the cock back in his mouth and Jacob grasps his cock firmly to keep from coming right then.

"I know, princess." He squeezes himself harder, until it hurts, listening to Troye and imagining him slurping like that around Jacob's cock, teasing the head with his tongue and letting his saliva dribble down his shaft while he stared up at Jacob with innocent eyes. "You'd suck me so good."

"Wanna." Troye breaks off the toy again, panting. "Wanna please you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Jacob's breath hitches and he drops his cock from his hand, letting it bob down between his legs. He's not going to fucking come yet, Jesus. "You please me," he says, trying to push down the hysteria rising in his voice. "Make me feel—" Troye slurps and hums as he takes the plastic dick into his mouth again and Jacob can't help but get his hand back around himself immediately. "So proud, baby, to hear you taking cock like that, you know what that does to me? Knowing you're doing that for me?"

Troye whines, high-pitched and muffled. "Empty, I'm—please—"

"You can have two fingers while you keep sucking," Jacob concedes, and Troye sighs like in relief. "Lube up, no touching your cock yet."

"Hard." Troye's voice is scratchy as he puts down the dildo. Jacob hears the snick of a lube bottle. "'M so hard." He's not even asking for anything, just telling. Jacob's played with lifestylers in BDSM clubs who were less naturally submissive than Troye. He's so fucking beautiful.

"But you won't touch until I say so." Jacob smirks to himself as Troye hums. "My good boy."

"'M a good boy," Troye echoes, then starts whining slightly before muffling the sound with the dildo again. The wet smack of Troye's lips sends another thrill through Jacob's cock, held loosely now in his hands.

"Feel how tight you are for me?" Jacob prompts, and Troye lets out an mmph of agreement. Jacob lets his own hand trail beneath his balls to nudge at the puckered skin around his hole, closing his eyes and imagining having Troye spread out and opening himself in front of him. "Fucking perfect, just know your arse was made for my cock."

This time, when Troye breaks the suction of his mouth around the dildo, his voice has an edge of desperation. "Ready, I'm ready, can I—"

Jacob will never be ready for this, probably. "Go on, baby," he says anyway, "fuck yourself."

"Yes." Jacob can hear Troye drop the phone in his excitement, but he picks it up again quickly. "Thank you, thank you—"

"Arse up, phone down on the pillow." Jacob moves down so that he's lying facing his ceiling, cradling his slick hardness gently in his hand, knowing that once Troye gets started it won't take him long.

"Thank you," Troye says one more time, as the sheets rustle and he thrusts his arse up in the air for Jacob.

"Spread your legs wide for me," Jacob instructs. Troye preens at the command. He's the prettiest thing Jacob's never seen. "So eager to please, kitten, I love it."

"Daddy." Troye whispers his words, either out of hoarseness or concern for the other people in his house. "I'd be so good for you, please, want your cock so bad—"

Jacob's hand spasms around his cock, and the jolt of pressure feels so good Jacob's back arches with it. He starts to pump himself again slowly and says, "Push in all the way, kitten."

Troye whimpers as he fucks into himself with the vibrator, and Jacob finally starts to fuck up into his slick fist like he's been dying to for ages, imagining those little sounds coming from beneath him while he grips Troye's hips and fucks him like Troye's been begging every night for weeks.

"How's it feel?" Jacob asks, breathlessly. Troye can surely tell he's going to come—but fuck whatever Jacob'd convinced himself was important about maintaining some distance, because Troye deserves to know how fucking hot he is like this.

"Big," Troye pants, "full, please, can I—"

Troye deserves everything. "Turn it on," Jacob commands.

Troye mewls, and it totally defeats the purpose of avoiding spanking so he won't wake up his family, but Jacob can't bring himself to care very much. His hips are fucking up into his fist so fast Troye (not to mention Jacob's whole building) can probably hear the creak of his mattress, but Jacob doesn't care about anything but the deep sounds Troye lets out as he squirms, waiting for Jacob to let him move.

"Fuck yourself for me now, kitten," Jacob says, barely keeping his voice steady as he slows his own strokes to a reasonable pace. "Slow, don't be greedy."

"Won't." Troye starts to let out little uh, uh, pleases while Jacob swipes the precome bubbling out of his slit down his cock, actually wincing at how good it is. "I'm your good boy."

Troye is. He is. "My boy," Jacob confirms, letting slip a brief hnngh before continuing, "the absolute best."

"I wish—" Troye doesn't stop making his sounds but—something comes over him, maybe, from hearing exactly how Jacob is getting off on this, and he starts talking. "Wish you'd—ahh—just take me. Find me and—tug my hair, like, wherever we were—tell me Daddy's come to claim his boy—"

Well, fuck. Jacob doesn't hold back his moan, arching his back and jerking himself off frantically. "Keep going," he urges, even as Adam throws something at his bedroom door. "Keep going, fuck."

"Mark me up and bend me over for you." Troye gasps and Jacob swears he can hear Troye's mattress creak, just like his own. "Hold my wrists down and fuck me 'til I can't remember my name, can't remember anything but—hnngh—Daddy..."

Jacob is so turned on he can't stop himself from fucking rough and fast into his fist. He's sure Troye can hear the slap of his skin as well as he can hear every little hitch of Troye's breath, the faintest hint of vibrations (it's probably just Jacob's own ears ringing). This isn't going to last much longer. He's about to tell Troye he can touch himself when Troye whimpers, "Close."

"Yeah?" Jacob whispers. He closes his eyes and yeah, he's close too. "Gonna come just from my cock, Troye?"

"Yes." Troye's voice stays low, but he sounds close to sobbing. "Daddy, please—"

That's what does it for Jacob. At the very moment he starts spurting up his chest, he chokes out, "Come for me," and less than a minute later Troye's echoing his groans and the thud of some other projectile against Jacob's door with his own uh uh hnnnnnngh.

They don't say anything for a few minutes, but it doesn't feel silent. Jacob doesn't move to wipe the come off his torso, treasuring it like a sign that this was real. This happened.

"Thank you," Troye says, eventually, inevitably.

Jacob rubs his cheek against his pillow and wishes he had a warm body to curl up next to. "Thank you."

"Did you—" Troye cuts off, then giggles a little. "Am I not supposed to ask that?"

Jacob laughs, wiping his hand through the puddle of come on his tummy and sucking a little off the tip of his finger loudly. "Wouldn't fake an orgasm just to make you feel good, love."

Troye's quiet for a minute. Jacob continues sucking come off his fingers. Salty. He should remember to eat more fruit. "That's what you do, though," Troye says. "Fake it. Isn't it?"

Jacob humphs and splays his sticky hand back out over his stomach. "Well, I'd like to think there's a bit more artistry to it than that."

Troye sounds a little panicked. "No! Of course, sorry, I meant—"

"I'm an actor, you know." Jacob puffs himself up and tries to sound offended, to keep making Troye apologize, but Troye sees through him and laughs.

"Is that how you got roped into this?"

By the time Jacob gets the whole story out, they've digressed at least a dozen times, and they don't stop. By the time Troye starts yawning into the phone, it's three-thirty in the morning.

"Think you should get some sleep, kitten," Jacob says. He regrets it a little, but his own eyes are drooping.

Troye hums in agreement, then pauses. "I feel bad. Like, you—we, um. But you didn't get paid."

Like Jacob hasn't already given that matter quite a bit of consideration. "We're friends, yeah? It's fine."

Troye shuffles around like he's adjusting his blankets. "None of my other friends make me come for free."

"Does that mean you pay them?" Jacob jokes, and Troye lets out a loud snort that makes Jacob's heart clench.

"No," he says, with an audible smile. "None of my other friends make me come."

Jacob worries at his lip for a minute, looking at himself in the mirror, all curled up and sleepy and sated. "Maybe we're not friends, then."

Troye considers it for a moment. "Okay," he agrees after a minute, then yawns. "Well. As your not-friend... 'm kind of half-asleep already."

"Since we're not friends," Jacob says, "I don't feel bad at all about telling you that makes you a fifty-year-old man. The night is young." He starts yawning halfway through the last bit, and Troye snorts again.

"Since we're not friends... fuck off."

"I will," Jacob says solemnly. "Since we're not friends."

"Not." Troye's voice is muffled through his pillow.

"Good night, my darling enemy."

"Worst enemy," Troye mutters. "Very menacing. Not darling."

"Very darling," Jacob insists, and he's rewarded with a sleepy giggle. "Sleep now."

"Sleep," Troye echoes, then he yawns. "Darling. G'night."

Jacob stays awake another half hour wondering if Troye was mocking him or calling him darling. If it could be both.

+++

Things are extremely good with Jacob until everything goes to complete shit.

Troye still calls him every night on the phone sex line, but he also texts with him in the mornings and whenever a grown adult says the word Daddy at work and when Jacob's at Tesco and can't choose a cereal. Troye's not sure, but it feels like it might be something that people in real relationships do, and that makes it way more exciting than any conversation about corn flakes has a right to be.

On the morning of The Disaster, Troye wakes up with a serious case up morning wood.

H: wish you were working so I could take care of this

L: but you're gonna wait for me, aren't you

H: ha if you want me to daddy x

Jacob doesn't reply to that. Troye spends fifteen minutes staring at his phone and wondering if he'd gone too far, if he should apologize, if it's weird to call him Daddy when they're just friends. Is it weird to text someone about your boner when you're just friends? Troye decides to ask Jedidiah when he sees him later today at work. They're both working the post-lunch shift, so they'll mostly be serving old ladies who are hard of hearing, anyway.

"If you ever text me about your dick, I'll kill you," Jedidiah says solemnly while he pushes a glass of water to Troye over the bar. Troye gulps half of it down while Jedidiah fixes Mrs. Z's afternoon martini. "Well, maybe if it's like... stuck somewhere, and you need me to... call somebody else to help you get it out. That's my upper friendship limit, mate."

"Where the fuck would I get my dick stuck?" Troye says. "And—hey. Who would you even call?"

"Your mum, probably."

"You're not calling my mum to tell her about my dick."

"Fire department, then, I don't know."

"They get kittens out of trees, like." Troye wrinkles his nose. "I'm not gonna get my dick stuck in a tree."

"Tell that to Mrs. Z." Jedidiah pushes the martini towards Troye. "And give her a kiss for me."

"You'll have to give me a kiss first." Troye leans over the bar and puckers up his lips. Jedidiah tries to shove an ice cube up his nose. Troye's still sputtering a little when he heads back into the dining room and hears.

"—great to see you too, Nan, sorry it's been so long since I've been able to take you out—"

Troye doesn't know how he knows with such overwhelming certainty that that's the voice that told him to shove his fingers in his mouth while he was fucking himself with his dildo last night. Most people sound sort of different over the phone, right? Troye can still barely recognize Adam's voice through the electronic filter, and he's been a part of Troye's life for six months. It's been less than a month since Troye started draining his future tattoo fund to spend his evenings with that voice in his ear, but he just. He knows.

Troye tries to keep his focus on Mrs. Z and her friends while he walks the cocktail over to her table, but the people who have just walked in are sitting at one of Troye's tables and fuck. Shortish twenty-something guy with an arm full of tattoos. Brown hair swept into a fringe. Blue eyes that meet Troye's as the man slides into a booth across from an older woman. He smiles, shortly but kindly, and looks like every wet dream Troye has ever had. He's absolutely positive this is Jacob.

"I wish you'd quit it already with that blasted telephone," Jacob's nan says. "I might not live much longer, you know." And wouldn't that make sense, that Jacob's family is sassy as hell. He has to get it from somewhere.

"Sorry, nan, it's work." Troye chances another glance while Mrs. Z tries to kiss him on the cheek. Probably-Jacob's face is so expressive, his fond amusement shining off him. "And don't kid, you're gonna live forever."

Work, Troye thinks. He worries at his lip as he turns away and makes a beeline back for the bar. He's got to tell Jedidiah—

But he can't tell Jedidiah something without telling him everything, and Troye doesn't think his Jacob has a job other than the sex line, so maybe this is just a dreadful mistake.

Then Troye's phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Mrs. Z ready for another already?" Jedidiah says with a grin, oblivious to Troye's crisis. "That's my kind of woman, let me tell you."

"No, that's not—just shut up a minute." Troye gets his phone out, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure no one else can see. He's really not supposed to have it on at all, but sometimes Jacob texts him during his shift. He's sure if his boss knew the situation she'd understand.

Sure enough, there's a text from Jacob.

L: talk dirty to me

So this might be happening. Jacob—Jacob the star of all Troye's sex dreams, Jacob the person Troye's been daydreaming about taking to a classy restaurant (not this place, somewhere they actually have a wine list) and getting wine-drunk and soft until he agrees to kiss Troye, Jacob Troye's Daddy—might be at the low-end Italian restaurant Troye works at for lunch with his grandmother and he might be sexting with Troye at the same time. Oh god.

Troye types out a quick response but doesn't send it immediately. He goes into the kitchen (ignoring Jedidiah's cries of oy pay attention to me you wanker) and grabs water to bring to maybe-definitely-probably-we'll-see Jacob's table. He sends the text right before he goes to Jacob's table.

H: cheeky. where are you sending me these inappropriate messages from anyway

"Thanks," Jacob says, only making brief eye contact with Troye before his phone buzzes and he looks back down at it.

"Will you turn that damn thing off?" Jacob's nan wraps her cane against the table. Jacob doesn't respond today.

"Hi, my name is—um, Ben," Troye says, suddenly trying to make his voice deeper than it usually is, "and, um, I'll be your server today." Troye stares at Jacob's phone and tries to make out what he's doing, but all he can see is that it's a text.

"That's be great, thanks," Jacob says to Troye, without looking up as he types out a response. "Sorry, Nan, I told you, I'm listening, I just have to take care of this thing at work. What did Mrs. Robinson say to that?"

Troye barely makes it away from the table before his phone starts buzzing. Not that it would matter if Jacob noticed, Troye reminds himself. Jacob has no reason to suspect that Troye is who he is.

L: If it's so inappropriate ask me to stop

L: I'm out for lunch

L: what are you wearing ?

Troye hides back in the bar again to check his messages and his heart stops. Jedidiah rolls his eyes.

"Are you texting your secret boyfriend or what?" Jedidiah asks, but Troye dashes away before he can answer. He's at work. He has to bring them the menus.

H: my work uniform

It wouldn't matter that much if Jacob did know who he was anyway, would it? It's not like Jacob's some huge executive who would look down on him, Troye thinks. He's just nervous. Maybe he should even tell Jacob what he suspects... joke about it, just in case he's wrong, in case he's hallucinating on account of being too eager to see Jacob in his real life. Next change he gets, Troye thinks.

"Nan, things today aren't like what they were, I'm telling you," Jacob is saying while Troye gives them the menus. "It takes a lot more to keep your clients satisfied. I'm always on the job."

Keep your clients satisfied.

Troye's head spins as he ducks back into the bar. Jedidiah doesn't even ask what he's up to now, even though he probably looks slightly manic. It's not like he has any more tables now that Mrs. Z's crowd is slowly nursing their afternoon drinks, so no one but Jedidiah takes notice while he leans back against the wall and starts texting, glancing back at Jacob over his shoulder occasionally.

L: sexy. Do you want to know what I'm wearing?

H: tell me

Troye's hands shake. A client. He's a client that Jacob is trying to keep satisfied.

L: Jeans and a jumper haha. But I'm starkers underneath xx

L: been thinking about your little problem this morning... want daddy to make it better?

Work, Troye thinks frantically, not sure if he's trying to convince himself or unconvince himself, this is just work for Jacob, it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything that Jacob's texting him dirty things from his personal number. It doesn't mean anything to him except that Troye's cock stirring in his pants is business for him. For all Troye knows, it could be his work phone. For all Troye knows, Jacob might not even be his real name.

H: are you trying to get me to wank off at work

L: do you not want to?

Troye falls for it, even knowing all that. Troye's getting hard in his trousers from Jacob's teasing, no matter why he's doing it. This is so fucked.

H: I do I just can't

Troye goes back to the table. Jacob keeps texting while Troye takes their orders, doing his best to keep his voice low and unrecognizable. Nevertheless, Jacob keeps taking long looks at him—but then, Troye supposes he would look at his waiter funny if he was sporting a hard-on inches away from his face. Troye's phone keeps vibrating right next to his dick, which is becoming an increasingly hard problem to ignore in his trousers, and he hates himself a little for getting off even on this, just the thought that Jacob doesn't care that Troye's at work, only cares about Troye being good for him.

Troye will hate himself a lot if he ends up being good for Jacob, even if Jacob only cares because it's work.

L: been thinking about how pretty you sound for me all day

L: just want to take care of you, baby, don't want to keep you waiting

Troye doesn't even get to the sanctuary of the bar before he's pulling out his phone, though. He can't wait. He's addicted to Jacob. He can't even force himself not to respond while he waits for their drinks.

H: sorry

Jacob texts back immediately, just as Shoshana, the other waitress on duty, goes on a smoke break so Troye can't ask her to cover for him.

L: well my waiter's pretty cute... sounds a bit like you... maybe /he'll/ get off with me in the loo

Does he know?

He couldn't, Troye thinks. Could he? Oh god. Fuck, he's done with this. Troye decides to give the table their drinks as quickly as possible and then—fake a stomach bug or something, let Shoshana take over, because serving food to the phone sex operator he's in love with while sporting a boner is way over his pay grade.

Troye keeps his gaze low as he returns to Jacob and his nan's table. Jacob is weirdly silent as Troye puts his coke down in front of him. Maybe God is finally going to give Troye a bit of a break.

Then—

"Hey, Troye?"

Troye turns automatically. Jacob closes his phone and Troye's buzzes in his pocket. He reaches to get it without thinking, then closes his eyes as a smile of recognition forms on Jacob's face.

Troye's thought not an inconsiderable amount about what it would be like to meet Jacob face to face. He's got several scenarios worked out. In Troye's mind, they've met at a coffee shop, a carnival, a fancy restaurant. His favorite one involves them both wearing red roses pinned to their lapels and meeting at a masquerade. Not one of them involved him sporting a boner in his loose work trousers, looking like a stupid pimply teenager. Like a client.

If there's one good thing about being a teenager, it's that no one expects Troye to be able to handle any serious shit. Troye does not disappoint in this way. He turns and marches immediately to the bathroom, locking himself in a cubicle and leaning his head against the wall, breathing hard and waiting for his heart to stop feeling like it's going to pound out of his chest. Preferably because he's died and will never need to face anyone in this restaurant again.

Fate is not on his side, though, it seems. His phone keeps buzzing, and he can ignore that, instead replaying the words it's just work it's just work it's just work in Jacob's voice in his head over and over (how could I be so stupid stupid stupid), but he can't ignore when the door to the men's room swings open and someone says, "Troye?"

It's Jacob. Fuck. Troye groans and fists his hands in his hair and wonders if Jacob would still recognize him if he yanked it all out.

"Is that you, Troye?"

There's silence for a minute. Troye thinks Jacob might have given up on him, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket and he finally digs it out.

L: are you freaked?

L: talk to me please?

Troye doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, until he hears a sigh, a bang like Jacob's kicked something, and the bathroom door swinging open and shut again.

Troye waits a good twenty minutes more in the loo, waiting for his boner to go away (which takes an annoyingly long time, in spite of his public humiliation, fuck his kinky subconscious to hell, honestly) frantically texting Jedidiah. Eventually, Jedidiah assures him that he's made up an excuse for their boss, and that Jacob and his nan have left. He then waits a few minutes more, staring at himself in the mirror and adjusting his fringe so that it covers the big pimple on his forehead. Just work, he thinks as he heads back into the dining room, his phone turned off in his pocket.

+++

"I can't believe that you're the reason Troye's barely gone out in a month. Adam and I just thought he finally bought a vibrator."

Jacob takes a drag of his cigarette. If it were anyone else, he'd inform Jedidiah that that was, in fact, no small part of what happened, but. What he and Troye had is private.

That's why he's completely miserable now that it seems to be gone. This is the second night in a row he's been third wheel with Adam and Jedidiah, and normally that'd mean he'd be pissed enough to get anything off his mind, but Troye just won't go away.

"I can't believe you put him on the phone with me as a joke," Jacob sighs. "I run a serious business, you know."

"Serious like a heart attack," Jedidiah says, nodding. "I think he's gone into some kind of withdrawal, mate. Have you got some kind of hypnotic power over his dick?"

"I wish," Jacob sighs. "Maybe then he's answer any of my dozens of messages begging him to talk to me again. I don't even know what I did to make him so angry at me!"

Jedidiah takes a deep drag from his cigarette and then drops it, grinding it into the ground with his heel. "You didn't hear this from me," he says, looking over his shoulder back at the door of the pub, whence Adam will emerge momentarily and insist that they talk about some other fucking thing for a change. "But he's angrier at himself, mate. He's got it in his head that he let himself get too attached, think you two might end up as something more, when it was all just a job to you."

"That's—" Jacob starts shouting, drawing the attention of passersby. He might be a little too drunk. Oh well, he's broken-hearted. Let the people stare. "Bollocks." Jacob kicks at the ground. "Of course I cared about him. Yeah, it's my fucking job, but that doesn't mean I'm immune to his charm and his eagerness and his—"

"Do not tell me anything about my best friend in bed," Jedidiah says firmly. "I dunno, mate. He's still angry I didn't tell him the phone sex guy was Adam's roommate, but he'll get over it once he calms down and realizes I'm the best fucking thing that's ever happened to him. All you can hope for is that he'll grant you second, I reckon."

Adam comes out and Jacob stomps out his cigarette. Fortunately, he's not quite coordinated enough to text Troye you're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me before Adam and Jedidiah link arms on either side of him and drag him off to the next pub.

+++

It's been a week and Jacob has finally cut back to one pining text a day by the time Troye calls him while he's at work, squeaking out hi while obviously in the middle of jacking himself off.

"Troye." Jacob gets up off the couch and goes into his room, leaning against the door and trying to keep himself from getting distracted by the sound of Troye fucking his wet hand. God, Jacob has missed Troye's sounds in his ear. "I've been trying to—"

"Can we just—" Troye cuts off, slowing the rhythm of his hand to match the pace of his speech. "I just want to get off, please." He sounds small and desperate and Jacob might be in love with him, actually.

"Okay," Jacob whispers. Then he clears his throat and cups his semi through his trackies. "Okay, we—I want to talk to you, but." Jacob exhales and palms himself roughly. Even now, the thought of not getting off with Troye panting like this for him is just unthinkable. "Where are you?"

"Already close," Troye whimpers, and then—then there's a wet sound, like Troye sucking precome off his fingers, god. "Always get so hard and so close when I'm thinking about you, come over and over but it's not—fucking—enough." Troye starts tugging at his cock again roughly, whining deep in his throat like he's being denied something that Jacob's been trying to give him for ages.

Jacob closes his eyes and takes his cock out. He's already fully hard—he's been imagining this every time he's gotten off for the past week, not to mention the past month. "Need me to make it good, baby?" he says roughly.

Troye keens and hums mhmmmm. Then he pants for a minute and mumbles, "'M not a baby."

Jacob starts to jerk himself off in time to Troye's little uh sounds and grits his teeth as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm his focus. "But you're my baby."

Troye makes a soft sound and licks his lips. "Baby," Jacob repeats, and starts jerking himself faster to match Troye's redoubled efforts. "Sound so good, you've already got me so hard, wish you could feel me, baby." Troye whimpers and Jacob's insides churn because Troye wants him, Troye wants him, Troye can't stop thinking about him and surely they can make the rest of it work, then, if Troye wants Jacob a fraction as much as Jacob wants him like this. "Can you come, for me? Want to hear my boy come for me."

Sometimes Troye comes with a whimper, sometimes with a shout; this time, it's more of a desperate cry. Jacob hears him keep pumping himself through it and fucks his own hips up into his fist a few times more. He's not too far from coming himself—of course hearing Troye's voice again would get him there—but he stops stroking his cock as soon as he hears Troye sputter through the aftershocks.

"Thank you," Jacob says quietly. With his hand still and Troye no longer sniffling, there's silence.

"Sorry." Troye's voice cracks and he clears his throat. "I shouldn't have—like. I'm just a kid, right? Just a dumb teenage client who works a dumb teenage job and is desperate to get off. I'll leave you alone now."

Jacob drops his cock from his hand, squeezing it into a fist and shaking his head. "I've been trying to call you for a week, Troye," he says, "I don't want you to leave me al—"

Dial tone. Jacob throws the phone down on the bed curses to himself and his angry red cock. Dumb teenage clients and their dumb teenage jobs is right. If he'd chosen any other restaurant to bring his nan to that day, they wouldn't be in this mess.

On the other hand, though...

Jacob smiles as he picks up with his next client, already picking out what he's going to wear.

+++

Troye knows something is up when Jedidiah tells him to wear a headband to work.

"You've spent literally half of the time I've known you asking me what that mess on my head was about," Troye says as he looks into his closet and stares at the little pile of scarves on the shelf. "In fact, you asked me about it yesterday and laughed your arse off even though I haven't worn it in a month. What are you up to?"

"Adam has taught me the error of my ways," Jedidiah says solemnly. "Wore one in bed last night and I get it now. I've reformed."

"I'm not gonna suck your dick just because you like my headband, Jedidiah." Troye picks up a scarf from the closet anyway, a nice black and purple ombre one. "That was a one-time thing."

"I'm gutted, really," Jedidiah deadpans. "Only one way to make it up to me. Wear the damn scarf in your hair. That blue and pink one that's your favorite."

Troye drops the scarf in his hand. "How on earth do you know that?" The only person Troye ever remembers discussing his scarf preferences with is Jacob, on one of the nights he'd convinced himself Jacob cared about more than emptying his wallet. He hasn't been in much of a mood for feeling pretty since then.

"You, uh, told me." Troye frowns but Jedidiah continues quickly. "Look, mate, I know you've been feeling like shit lately, I just think you need to do something for yourself that'll cheer you up, you know?"

Troye sighs. "I swear to god, if you give me shit about this..."

"No shit-giving," Jedidiah swears. "If anybody gives you any shit, I'll suck your dick, how's that?"

"Tempting." Troye ties the scarf into his hair. "See you in a bit."

+++

It only gets weirder when Troye gets to work. Jedidiah is constantly on his phone. He's so distracted that he gives Troye the wrong drink three times in a row, the likes of which has not happened since the week he and Adam got together and Adam was sending him a dick pic every hour or so. When Jedidiah does pay attention to Troye, he spends a long time scrutinizing Troye's outfit—a ridiculously long time, given that it's the same black shirt and trousers he wears to work every day.

"Shouldn't you be wearing something with a collar?" Jedidiah says, frowning at Troye's shirt. "Isn't this a classier establishment than that?"

Troye raises his eyebrows. "You didn't wear shoes for a full week until Lydia caught you."

"Nobody sees my feet, though," Jedidiah says, waving his hand. "At least, nobody important." He cocks his head and looks over Troye's outfit once more before turning back to his phone.

Whatever. Troye's always known Jedidiah's a bit of a weirdo, but he's chosen to remain friends with him anyway, so he agrees to stay a while after his shift while Jedidiah covers for the evening barkeeper, who's running late. Still, Jedidiah starts acting even weirder, visibly fidgeting and constantly offering Troye breath mints.

"When are you going to tell me why you're acting so weird?" Troye asks, swirling around in the bar chair after refusing the fifth mint. "Is my breath that bad?"

"'M always a bit weird, aren't I?" Jedidiah's obviously looking at someone over Troye's shoulder while he speaks. "Quirky Jedidiah! That's me!"

Troye turns to look over his shoulder and Jedidiah suddenly takes both of Troye's hands into his.

"Troye," Jedidiah says. His voice suddenly takes on a very serious tone, though he still sounds slightly hysterical. "I just want you to know that I really, really love you mate."

"Love you too, mate." Troye frowns down at their enjoined hands. "Is, er... is something wrong with Adam?"

"Nothing's wrong with Adam." Jedidiah drops Troye's hand and takes a step back, putting a hand to his hair. "Wait, do you think something's wrong with Adam? Why would you ask me if something's wrong with Adam?"

"Because you're acting like either you're dying or you want me to suck your dick."

"I don't." Jedidiah huffs and steps back forward, resting his hand on top of Troye's again. "I just want you to know that I'd support you no matter what, yeah? Even if you wasted several hundred pounds paying a sex line operator to get you off when if you were really that desperate, mate, Adam would've said yes to the threesome."

"I'll keep that in mind," Troye mumbles. He eyes the scotch on the counter and decides he should really make Jedidiah buy him a drink. "You know, for the next time I let someone break my heart."

Jedidiah makes a noise like a dying cat. He's looking over Troye's shoulder again, and just as Troye turns to see what the fuck he is looking at, Jedidiah shouts, "Commence stage three!"

The first thing Troye sees is Adam jogging towards the bar like he's escaping the scene of a crime. He ducks behind the bar and kisses Jedidiah on the temple, and Troye's about to ask what the fuck is going on when he turns back to see what Adam was running from and sees an elaborately set table in the window niche, four times fancier than any other table in the restaurant, with a light blue tablecloth that matches the color of Troye's scarf, little pink tealights scattered all around the table, a bouquet of fresh flowers in the middle, and Jacob sitting on the far side, wearing a blazer over his fitted band shirt and fiddling with his perfectly-styled fringe nervously, staring at Troye.

Who marches directly over and kicks him in the shin.

"Fuck, you'll do anything to keep a client, won't you," Troye hisses. "I work here."

Jacob doesn't bristle. He barely even winces as he rubs at his shin. He shakes his head. "You're not just a client to me, Troye," he says evenly.

"Why?" Troye throws up his hands and switches from whisper-shouting to speaking in a hushed tone, hands shaking as he glances between the elaborate table and the rest of the restaurant. People are staring. Fucking let them, Troye thinks. He's let Jacob fuck him over often enough in the privacy of his own bedroom, they might as well have the fallout in public. "What's so special about me? You must talk to hundreds of people every week." Jacob laughs loudly and rolls his eyes. "Well, whatever, a lot of people. Not to mention how you look like the literal god of sex and pretty much anyone in this restaurant would spread their legs for you." Jacob glances around and snorts. It's not really attractive, but Troye would still suck Jacob's dick this very second, which he figures only adds to his point. "Why on earth would you pick somebody like me?"

Jacob waits for a moment to see if Troye is done ranting. Troye takes a step back from the table and tries not to let Jacob see his hands shaking when Jacob says, "You're sweet."

Troye rolls his eyes. Please. "You are," Jacob insists. He looks like he's trying not to get up and shake Troye by the shoulders. "You're kind and you're funny and you're a huge dork but you own it and—and you always say thank you after you come." Jacob lets out a strangled laugh. "I like you a lot, Troye, and I'd like to get to know you better, without anybody paying for it." He pauses. "Well, I'll pay for the meal. Reckon I owe you a couple hundred quid by now."

Troye takes a few deep breaths before answering. He can barely think anything except I'm going to kill Jedidiah and look at his fucking thighs in those jeans, this is way too good to really be true. "Isn't that what everybody does?" He crosses his arms over his chest. "Grunt thanks and leave?"

"I don't want you to leave," Jacob says. Troye looks down at his feet and shakes his head slightly in disbelief. "No, Troye, really—think whatever you want about me, but don't think for a second that if you leave this table I'm not going to break this vase over my head and wallow here in my sorrow until they drag me out by the hair. I don't want you to leave."

Troye chews on his lip and considers the flowers in the vase on the table. It's a rather lovely collection of pink and orange plumerias. His shoulders slacken a bit. It'd be a shame for them to go to waste—especially all over the even lovelier man wringing his hands across the table.

Troye sits down. "Okay." Jacob sits up straighter than he ever has, so that his eyeline is level with Troye's. Troye takes a deep breath and looks around, taking in the ambiance of the restaurant as a date setting and not just work. Candles and flowers notwithstanding, it's not ideal, but... it's where they are.

Troye catches Jedidiah and Adam staring at them from the bar. Jedidiah gives him a thumbs-up and Troye gives him a middle finger before adjusting his headscarf and turning back to Jacob. "Okay," he says again, his mouth curling into a smile that mirrors the one he sees breaking over Jacob's face. "I'm not leaving. Make it worth my while."

Jacob throws his own middle finger up at Adam and Jedidiah, whose giggles Troye can hear from half a room away. "I fully intend to," Jacob says, and takes Troye's hand in his.

They're shitty conversationalists for the evening, since both of them keep stopping in the middle of sentences to giggle and stare and rub circles into each other's thumbs, but Troye doesn't leave. Not when Jacob knocks over the water pitcher while leaning over the table to give him a tentative first kiss. Not when Jacob has to pause in the middle of their relationship talk to yell at his boss on the phone about taking the night off. Not even the next morning, when he wakes up next to Jacob hours before Jacob stirs from his sleep. He drapes Jacob's arm over his waist and curls up into the heat of his body and stays.

+++

Two years later

"It's a pilot program, babe. The company's considering targeting female clients. I'm getting paid triple."

Troye frowns at Jacob and walks his fingers up his thigh. "But it's our night."

"Every night is our night." Jacob places his hand over where Troye's is resting on his stomach. "That was kinda the point of you moving in with me."

Troye wraps his arm tighter around Jacob's torso. "I like it like that. 'S why I said I'd move in with you in the first place."

"You moved in with me because you're madly in love with me," Jacob points out. Troye can't argue with that, really, but Jacob's also madly in love with him, so he fixes him with his best pout.

Jacob glances over his shoulder and laughs. "Stop making that face, you look like you're having a stroke."

Troye sighs, his face softening. "I also moved in with you for the sex."

"I'm sure it won't take that long." Jacob flips over to face Troye and threads his fingers through Troye's hair. "And we can play afterwards, all right? Whatever you want."

"I always get whatever I want," Troye points out, which isn't strictly true—even now that Jacob doesn't have a financial incentive to keep him from coming as long as possible, he still likes to tease Troye longer than Troye would ever be able to imagine doing to himself. Troye wouldn't have it any other way, though. Jacob sits up and sighs, continuing to play with Troye's hair.

"It's just a job, Troye."

"You weren't saying that when you made me spank myself on the job." Troye wrinkles his nose. "Takes a lot out of the shoulder, y'know."

"That's because I fell in love with you the moment I heard you say, um, hi?" Jacob bops Troye on the nose and Troye scrunches up his face. "Which I doubt will happen with the woman I'm scheduled for a call with in five minutes."

"You never know." Troye crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows. He knows he's being ridiculous. Jacob knows too. He chortles.

"Good thing I've got my anchor here with me then, hmm?" Jacob traces over Troye's wrists lightly. "Keep me grounded?"

Troye doesn't say anything. Jacob's right, of course. It happens slightly more often than Troye would like. Just his luck, falling in love with the most sensible sex line operator who also has given his real name and number out to clients.

"Babe." Jacob sighs. "You know this isn't forever."

Troye waits a moment, then nods. "We're forever," he says quietly. It's something they've always said, but it's starting to mean more, lately, as evidenced by the way Jacob's face lights up.

"Yeah," Jacob whispers, and kisses Troye sweetly, sucking on his lower lip but pulling away when Troye starts to open into it. "Listen, if you're really—"

"No," Troye says firmly. He rubs his temples and grins up at Jacob. "No, I'm just being an idiot. Take the call. And afterwards tie me up and ride me with a vibrator in my arse."

"Anything for my baby," Jacob coos. He gets his phone from the side table, then runs his hand down Troye's side. "Stay and cuddle?"

Troye doesn't usually just sit around and watch while Jacob's working. That would be pretty weird, regardless of what his job was. (Well. There was that one time Jacob tied him to a chair and put a vibrating plug in Troye's arse while Jacob went about unpacking boxes, but that was a special occasion.) Usually he goes out with his friends or sits on their bed writing songs while Jacob's out fake-moaning for his clients. Now that he knows what Jacob really sounds like, he's not too bothered by it—except for the occasional twist in his gut when Jacob goes a little breathless.

He's nineteen now, though, and as a grown-ass adult he's capable of dealing with his jealousy when it crops up without throwing a fit. It's made significantly easier by how Jacob is so in love with him that he keeps trying to bring him breakfast in bed even though he keeps burning himself making pancakes.

Still, it's a bit awkward when Jacob finally answers the phone while he's wrapped up in Troye's arms.

"Hey baby, what's your name?"

Troye pulls Jacob against him as his little spoon while Jacob sinks into his phone persona and nuzzles his nose against Jacob's free ear, letting Jacob's scent overwhelm him.

"Well, Ronnie, what are you wearing?"

Right to the point then. Troye huffs a little, tucks his chin over Jacob's shoulder, and rubs circles into his hip. Jacob doesn't pull away this time, like he usually does, rolling his eyes and mouthing Tro I'm working. This time, he actually leans back into Troye's touch. It's just one call, Troye thinks. Then he has his Jacob back.

"I'd like to get my hands on that lace," Jacob says into the phone. "Feel how wet you are for me through your panties."

As soon as Jacob says the word lace, Troye's mood brightens immediately. He shoots up and out of bed. Jacob makes a small displeased sound that the woman on the other end of the line probably thinks is a moan for her, and that's half of why Troye's smiling as he roots through the sock drawer until his fingers brush over fine silky material.

There's something like half a dozen panties stowed away in that drawer. Troye's favorite pair is actually a white cotton number with pink polka dots that his cock just barely peeks out of when he's fully hard. But Jacob's favorite is this red lace pair that he says makes Troye's arse look good enough to eat. Troye's intention is to get him to do exactly that.

"Touch yourself for me." Jacob speaks into the phone but his eyes are on Troye. Troye obeys immediately, pushing his briefs off his hips and circling his cock with his hand while he shimmies out of them. God, Jacob gets him so fucking hard. Jacob's attention shifts from Troye back to the phone when Troye ducks down to step out of his briefs, and that just will not do.

"Yeah, I wanna hear you," Jacob says as Troye pulls the panties up around his thighs. They feel cool against Troye's flushed skin and Troye lets out a little half-whimper that has Jacob's eyes dart towards him in alarm more than anything. He puts a finger to his lips and Troye nods. It's one thing to actually get off while you're with a client, like Jacob did with Troye—that's arguably what the client expects, anyway. It's quite another thing to hear the person you're paying to focus on getting you off be with somebody else.

Troye figures he'll just have to make Jacob do the whimpering, then.

He pulls the panties up around his hips and takes his time tucking his cock to the side in them, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of the silk around him.

"Yeah, get yourself all worked up for me," Jacob says. "Fuck, you're getting me so hard." Troye bites his lip while he thumbs over the head of his cock through the panties. Usually that'd be an outright lie, but Jacob really is sporting a semi now as he keeps glancing between Troye and the ceiling, drumming his fingers on his thigh in something like anxiety.

Troye doesn't have that much time to effect his plan—Jacob's clients usually don't stay on the phone with him half as long as Troye did, as Troye was slightly embarrassed to find out before Jacob assured him that taking longer than three minutes to finish was a good thing—but since this is a woman, not some grumpy old man who just wants a voice in his ear while he comes, maybe she'll have a bit more discerning taste. Take advantage of everything Jacob really has to offer.

Of course, actually thinking about the woman on the other end of the line makes Troye bristle a bit. "So wet, I can hear how wet you are." Troye imagines the woman lying spreadeagle on a bed, fucking herself on three fingers while fumbling to keep the phone held against her ear, just like Troye used to do. He blurts out a little precome at the memory, just remembering how desperate he was for any scrap of Jacob he could get.

How desperate he still is, really. He tugs on Jacob's arm until he's sitting upright. Troye climbs on top of him, straddling Jacob's lap with his legs spread out wide, his cock just barely brushing against Jacob's through the thin silk of Troye's panties and the thick cotton of Jacob's trackies.

"Yeah? You want to suck me?" Troye nods vigorously, his hands tracing over the lines of Jacob's shoulders and searching his face for recognition, for permission that, for a moment, just doesn't come, Jacob's focus on his client. That gets to Troye more than it maybe should—Jacob just ignoring Troye while Troye is hard and waiting in his lap, wearing the panties Jacob picked out for him, makes Troye feel wanton and slutty, makes him want nothing more than to drop to his knees for Jacob. The only thing he wants more is to stay like this, rocking his silk-clad cock up against Jacob's thigh like he can't help himself until Jacob gives him permission.

"That's right," Jacob says, his eyes sliding into focus with Troye's at last, "I want to hear you choke yourself on my cock." His eyes are dark and commanding. Troye whimpers a little even before Jacob gives him a curt little nod that sends Troye scrambling down to his knees. He tries to push Jacob's legs apart and pull down his trackies at the same time, all while licking his lips and keeping his gaze fixed on Jacob's face, but he only manages to get a faceful of Jacob's trackies until Jacob takes pity on him and lifts his hips up enough for Troye to pull them down, revealing Jacob's cock, red and thick with just a hint of precome peeking out the tip. Troye licks over it immediately, humming loudly in satisfaction and suckling on Jacob's head greedily until Jacob tugs on his hair harshly.

Without pulling Troye's head off his cock, Jacob shushes him with a finger. Troye can't nod with Jacob's cock in his mouth, so instead he moves to take several inches more of him at once. This time, it's Jacob that lets out a little grunt.

It took Troye weeks of gagging on bananas until he was able to relax his throat enough to deepthroat Jacob, but it was worth every taunt from Jedidiah for the satisfied hum Jacob lets out when Troye's nose settles against his pubic hair, Jacob's heavy and hot cock on his tongue overwhelming all his senses. "Good girl," Jacob says, scratching behind Troye's ear. Troye figures that that should make him jealous, remind him that Jacob's not really talking to him, but—Jacob is talking to him, he's talking to both of them. Troye is his good girl, Troye is his everything, and all Troye can do to show him that Jacob is his everything too is bob his head and swirl his tongue around the underside of his cock..

Jacob recognizes his efforts by tugging on his hair. "Want me to fuck your throat?"

Troye digs his fingers into Jacob's thighs to say please while the woman on the phone moans loud enough for Troye to hear clearly, even with his focus somewhat compromised by the cock nudging the back of his throat. Jacob holds Troye's head still with one hand and fucks into him while Troye sputters and balls his hands into fists so that he doesn't scream it out, yes yes yes.

"You want me to come on your face?" Jacob says, and it takes everything Troye has not to moan. He pushes himself even farther down Jacob's cock, so that he has to close his tearing eyes for a moment. He tries not to choke when Jacob says, "Mark you all up, my come all over your pretty lips and flushed cheeks, so everyone will know you're mine."

Troye lets out the tiniest of whimpers. Jacob fucks into his throat against harshly once more before grunting. "Fuck, 'm close. You ready for my come?"

Troye keeps his lips parted slightly as he nods up at Jacob, not breaking eye contact as Jacob pulls out of his mouth and starts jerking wildly over Troye's face. Jacob stares down at him and whispers perfect before he comes in short spurts over Troye's face, coating his lips and striping up his cheek, over one of his daintily closed eyes, reaching all the way up to his fringe.

"Yeah," Jacob breathes in the aftermath of his orgasm. His hand shakes slightly as he fists his free hand back in Troye's hair, keeping his come-covered face upturned and on display for him. "Yeah, come for me, make yourself come for me." He tightens his hand in Troye's hair and Troye knows this command isn't for him. These days it takes a lot more than a blowjob for Troye to earn his orgasm. And, as tempting as it is to just rub off on Jacob's calf through his silky panties, Troye knows nothing in the world feels as good to him as earning it.

"No, thank you, babe," Jacob says into the phone. He finally lets go of Troye's hair and swipes up the come on Troye's cheek with his thumb, pushing it into Troye's mouth. Troye suckles obediently, blinking his eyes open again and staring up at Jacob while Jacob focuses his attention back on the caller. "The pleasure was all mine. Hope I'll hear from you again."

When Jacob hangs up, Troye lets out a loud whimper, glancing down at his cock before looking up at Jacob again with pleading eyes.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jacob curls his finger around the bit of Troye's hair covered with his come, then puts it to his own mouth and tastes it.

"No." Troye's voice is completely wrecked. Jacob sounds—cheerful. Not like he's about to make Troye come. Troye swallows and smiles up at him placidly. "Thank you, Daddy."

"I'll even tie you up, still, like I promised," Jacob says. He tugs Troye up onto the bed, jostling Troye's cock where it's pulling tight at the panties. Troye whimpers and Jacob kisses him on the forehead. "But first," Jacob says seriously, standing up and kissing Troye again, this time a peck on the lips, "I'm gonna make us some tea."

Troye grins dopily as Jacob pulls on a pair of Troye's briefs as he heads out to the kitchen ("Adam and Jedidiah get enough of a free show from us these days"). Miraculously, he might be fonder than he is horny. He falls back onto their bed with a sigh. For someone with a painful hard-on and come sticking in his hair, who's probably less than halfway through a sex marathon, he feels incredibly satisfied.

He's ready to call this a success. Not Jacob's pilot program, necessarily, but... all of this. The apartment, the panties, the boyfriend, everything. He'll save up enough money for tattoos again someday. Jacob was worth every pence.