{{ michael/gavin - smut. }}

When ‘Gavin Free is calling’ showed up on screen, Michael wasn’t sure what to expect. So when he slipped on his headset and answered, he was only a little surprised to see Gavin sitting in his own chair at home, a little half-assed smirk on his face.

“Evening, Mi-cool,” he crooned, giving a little wave.

“Hi Gavin,” he shoots right back, a little wary - they normally planned their Skype dates. Sitting at his home with his laptop on his desk and idly clicking through dumb youtube videos was not planned.

He also doesn’t need to ask why this call is taking place.

Michael, by now, knows that hungry look. The one he’ll get from across the room when they’re all circled around a tv or when they’re all at the table of some fast-food place or when they’re chatting with everyone at the bar. And he knows the ending.

But it’s a new concept, over Skype. They’d never like, sexted or anything. So this felt…well, unreal. Bizarre, even.

“How are you, Gavin?” He starts to tease, because he knows how Gavin is, and seeing that flicker on his face makes his mouth quirk in a smile.

“Little lonely,” comes the reply, and he sees the shift in his shoulder, the nervous fidgeting, and Gavin’s tongue flicks out to swipe his lip.

"Is that so?" He asks, cocking his head innocently.

“Maybe I can help.” Michael is actually surprised in how low his voice dropped, how husky it sounded. Apparently Gavin was too, because he heard the little hitch in his breath from the audio.

He strips himself of his shirt - while he feels self conscious, the Brit seems to be almost obsessed with his torso, always running hands and fingers and kisses all over, any bare skin he can reach. The reaction is immediate. Gav’s eyes go wider, mouth half open, breath coming out in a whoosh. A feeling strangely akin to love fills Michael to the brim, but it’s swiftly replaced with his own wave of lust. He runs a hand up his chest, to his neck, into his curls. He looks Gavin straight in the eye; well, no, straight into the camera, really, and pulls, hard. He exaggerates his groan, getting the exact reaction he needed. Gavin, though off-screen, has definitely started to touch himself, apparently slowly by the movement of his shoulder.

Michael smiles, oh so innocently now, and his fingers inch slowly down his skin again, towards his chest. He watches his Brit’s eyes follow them eagerly, as if on the edge of his seat, just holding his breath. Michael trails one finger around his left nipple slowly, tortuously. Those big brown eyes follow every circle, every inch, until he finally barely brushes the tip of his finger over it, a tiny huff escaping his mouth. Gavin bites his lip, and Michael does it again, barely touching himself, teasing in a way he perhaps had never been teased before.

It had the brunette practically drooling.

He adds a little more pressure now, and this time it really is making him lose his breath. Sensitivity made it hard to tease your boyfriend properly, but by the looks of it, he didn’t need it. So he gives in, properly toying the nub, stroking along it slow as can be. He flicks it now, and gasps, alternating between flicking it and pinching it until he finally lets out a full-on moan that may only have been a little exaggerated. Gavin groans out across the audio, and his courage boosts. He brings his other hand up now to entertain the neglected nipple, playing with each until he’s letting out tiny whimpers. He knows himself, knows he could get off just by this, but he doesn’t want to. Not tonight. Not for Gavin.

So Michael finally drops his hands, one hand going back up to his hair and pulling again sliding down his neck, and the other drifts down to his jeans. By now Gavin is already pulled out and stroking himself, skin on skin.

Michael slides a hand along himself through his jeans, the hardness barely noticed until now, and the sudden realization that he’s actually painfully hard is a surprise. He’s aching for this already, wanton and desperate. But he’s got a show to perform. And perform he will.

He unzips himself, tugging his jeans down past his knees to spread his legs wide, rolling the chair back so Gavin can get a view. The brit is flowing through the speakers regularly with moans and gasps and hard breathing. He strokes himself through his underwear for a bit, staring straight at the camera again with his head against the chair, a poor imitation of lying in bed. It does seem to do the trick, as Gavin instinctively ducks his head to his chest - something he always seemed to do when he was on top. This won’t do, and Michael lets out a ragged “Gaaavvinnn,” which makes his head snap up dangerously quickly. Those green eyes are trained on him completely again, and he pulls himself out, dragging a thumb over the head and letting out a rough groan, and it goes on longer than it should, but to finally feel skin to skin and actually be touching himself feels so damn good that it makes his head whirl. Gavin recognizes it instantly, because he harmonizes with Michael, though it comes out more of a growl.

Michael starts a slow rhythm, hand sliding down to the root, and twisting on the way up. He tosses his head back and he lets out what could be a laugh, or perhaps a sob. He won’t last very long, he knows it. But luckily, neither will Gavin. He’s positively shaking on the other end of the call, and can barely watch Michael without shutting his eyes. Apparently, he’s trying to match Michael’s speed, so he gives mercy and speeds up a bit, going at a pace that has them both letting out steady streams of noise in a matter of minutes.

He knows Gavin is close, can see it in the stutter of his shoulder. “Gavin,” he whimpers, and lets his eyes slip closed, arching up into his hand and barely touching the slit of his cock until he’s shaking and arching higher, trying to get his hand to do more. “Gavin fuck please, fuck don’t tease fuck please Gav-please come on baby come on, please don’t tease me please fuckin’ touch me come on come on baby,” and Gavin actually loses it, screaming Michael’s name as he comes. He starts to fist himself faster now, dangerously close, and with a second hand stuttering over his frenulum he comes undone, nearly howling.

It takes them a few minutes to finally come down, and neither of them speak, basking in the afterglow of one another. Gavin’s got this goofy little grin on his face and Michael can’t even get the energy to open his eyes. Finally he does, and Gavin leans forward, eyes roaming over his face.

“Thank you love,” he sighs, and Michael laughs.

“Happy to help, babe. Happy to help.”

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