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Same Time Next Week

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The door closed shut behind Jim as he trailed his way into his apartment. His shoes squeaked against the polished floorboards, loud enough to set Jim’s teeth on edge. He knew, however, that he was just using the noise as an excuse; in actuality, it was his day that was sending his whole body into tense overdrive.

It had started with a late wake-up call, due to a power cut knocking the alarm out by a full hour. As a result, he’d been late for work, for the third time that month alone. It had resulted in Jim receiving his third, and final, warning and had subsequently been asked to leave the premises. Despite the fact that he enjoyed teaching, he was relieved to finally leave the snotty nosed kids behind and their complete inability to listen while he was attempting to teach them the merits of e.e. cummings and Keats.

Jim kicked off his shoes, feeling a great sense of completion when they skidded across the slick floor and thudded against the far wall, as though that one action purged himself of his bad day. He stared down at his fallen shoes, a little irritated to find that the initial euphoria of throwing as inanimate an object as a pair of shoes didn’t actually last long enough to fully assuage his pent up anger.

Jim sighed and turned away, feeling the weight of his rain soaked shirt clinging to his body when he moved. He huffed in discomfort yet didn’t bother to head into his bedroom to grab a change of clothes; at that moment in time, all he wanted was coffee and something to eat, not personal comfort.

He headed down the short corridor and on into his kitchen, mind wandering over the fact that his boyfriend had also dumped him that day, rubbing the salt into an already jobless wound. He growled, slammed his coffee mug down upon the kitchen work surface and viciously dashed two spoonfuls of coffee into the bottom. He flipped on his kettle, before stamping over to the fridge and retrieving the cake he’d been saving for that evening from its chilled depths. He placed it onto the work-surface next to his mug, before staring down at the cake in sudden depressed sadness. He took great pleasure in cutting a huge chunk of the soft sponge, before plopping it forcefully onto a plate pulled hastily from the cupboard.

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” he said, knowing that losing both his job and his boyfriend couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

He reached out once the kettle had stopped boiling, before sending a stream of heated water over the coffee granules. The rich scent of coffee wafted around him, relaxing him just slightly - Jim had always loved the scent of coffee. He found even that one small pleasure oddly calming and he felt a little better as he trailed through to his living area, mug in one hand and newly carved piece of cake in the other. He sat down ad stared around at the room surrounding him, wondering what he was supposed to do. He had, of course, arranged with his now sadly ex-boyfriend to watch a DVD and eat Chinese take-out, yet neither option appealed to him after the day he‘d had.

He walked across the room to look out of the window and watched as rain drenched down from the sky, pattering against puddled sidewalks. The stormy sky reflected in the mirror like surfaces of each puddle, disturbed by passing pedestrians and the rain itself. Jim watched the weather outside for a while, fascinated by the fall and swish of the rain sliding down his windowpane. He returned to his living area when he remembered his coffee, which was just on the right side of warm. He sipped at it, grateful for the rich taste of the drink sliding down his throat. He picked up a nearby magazine that he hadn’t gotten round to reading yet, before he flipped open to a page, a flyer sliding from between the pages to float jaggedly down to the floor.

“What’s this?” Jim murmured, to himself, leaning down to pluck the flyer from the rug beneath his feet.

Curiously, he turned it over and scanned the text picked out in lurid red against deepest black upon the flyer. He smirked, when he realized that it was advertising an adult chat line for gay men. He placed the flyer aside with an amused snort and tried to distract himself from his shitty day and the silence in the room by turning on the TV. He flicked the channels, inundated with a ceaseless round of chat shows and reality TV, with a few movies he’d already seen a dozen times hidden between. He sighed. and flicked through the channels again, hoping that in his previous surfing he’d missed something he actually wanted to watch. Once again, he found nothing, too distracted by angry thoughts to concentrate on anything for long.

It was during his third attempt to find something even remotely watchable that his gaze once again fell upon the flyer left abandoned upon the coffee table. A sudden thought ratcheted across his mind that he should just ring the damn number if he was so bored; at least that way he could spend some time with some relatively cheap entertainment - in both senses of the word. He’d have a good laugh about it afterwards at least.

He sighed and returned his attention to the screen, when he found something plausible and interesting. He watched for about five minutes, alternately sipping from his coffee cup and taking small bites of his cake, surprised to find that he was no longer hungry. He was merely eating for the sake of it, hoping that by dint of keeping his mouth busy, he could also keep his mind busy, and keep it from straying over his bad day. Still, Jim’s eyes returned again and again to the flyer, amusement soon turning into genuine curiosity and then into a complete desire to find out what it was like. After all, if he didn’t like the experience, Jim reasoned he could chalk it up to curiosity and a bad decision.

He flicked off the TV and picked up the phone, immediately dialling the number before he could change his mind. He heard the dial tone, listened to it for a few seconds, before disconnecting, disgusted with himself for chickening out after all. He sighed, tossed the phone aside and stared listlessly up at the ceiling.

“Great. I can’t even make a damn phone call now,” he muttered to himself, feeling essentially stupid and more than a little angry at himself.

He sighed, and continued staring up at the ceiling, long slow blinks sweeping eyelids down over sleepy blue eyes. He huffed, mind returning again and again to the phone, before he sat up straight, resolution clear in the set of his body.

“Damn it,” he said, as he snatched the phone from the cushion beside him and hit redial.

He waited, a knot of fear thrilling through him when the phone rang once, twice, three times. Strangely, the fear turned to excitement, as though in some way that one phone call was getting back at douche-y ex-boyfriends and equally douche-y ex-employers alike. At least he had the choice of whether he stayed on the phone or hung up.

Despite the fact that the phone only rang ten times, it seemed interminably longer to Jim, as though time had slowed and was taunting him by dint of its very stretched out slowness. He swallowed thickly, eyes staring at nothing, and he began to wonder if he was doing the right thing after all. Ringing up adult chat lines wasn’t like him after all, he hadn’t done it before, he was nervous, he was scared and -

“Hello,” drawled a slow voice upon the other end of the phone, languidly lazy and sounding gruffly amused. “You finally decided to go through with it, huh?”

“What?” Jim asked, surprised by the tone and the question.

He hadn’t expected such a comment nor was he expecting the utter sexiness of the other man’s voice. The accent alone, a lazy Southern drawl, was enough to make him sit up and take notice.

“You were the guy ringing just now, weren’t you? Lasted two rings?” asked the guy, all rounded vowels and lazy syllables.

Jim felt himself get hard and the other guy hadn’t even done anything or said anything out of the ordinary yet. He’d always had a thing for accents after all.

“How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone,” Jim replied, amusement ringing unbidden in his tone and replacing his prior nervousness.

“Well, considering you rang back a few minutes after the first attempt, I had an idea it might have been you, kid,” the man drawled. “We’re not exactly busy at this time of the day, you know.”

“Do you talk to all of your customers like this?” Jim asked, riffling one hand through his hair and grinning despite himself.

“Clients. They’re clients, kid,” the man replied, amusement of his own turning his tone lazier still. “And no, just the new ones. You’ve never done this before, have ya?”

“No,” Jim admitted after a long pause. “Is it that obvious?”

“Kinda,” the man replied. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Is that normal to ask your client’s name?” Jim asked, uncertain.

“Just give me a random name, it doesn’t even have to be your own name. Believe me, the ridiculous names some bastards come out with are unbelievable. Lord Spank-a-lot, my ass,” the man replied. “Plus it precludes having to call you kid all the time.”

“Ah, right. Jim. I’m Jim,” Jim replied, mind going blank over making up a fake name.

“Okay, Jim, what do you want me to do?” the man replied, without preamble.

“Do? I thought all you guys did was talk,” Jim said, with a confused frown.

“Yeah, but d’you want the bare bones, or d’you want me to hurl abuse? Let me tell ya, Jim, some people really get turned on by being shouted at,” the other man said. “D’you have a fetish? Any particular kinks?”

“Uh, I want the bare bones, I guess,” Jim said, slowly. “I think I‘ve had enough abuse today. Just go easy on me, will ya? It’s my first time.”

“What the hell d’you think I’m gonna do to ya kid? I’m hardly gonna rape you over the phone,” the other man said, voice going deeper with amused roughness.

Jim, at least, laughed at that, knowing that the other man, nameless as he currently was, had a point.

“Say, what’s your name?” he said. “You have mine and I don’t even know yours.”

“Who d’you want me to be?” the other man countered. “I can be anyone you like. Kinda adds to the fantasy.”

“Yeah? That so?” Jim asked, in surprise, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth at that.

His mind shifted, and caught hold of something that the disembodied voice had said earlier, something about wanting bare bones.

“Bones,” he blurted without further thought. “You’re Bones.”

“Bones?” the man laughed. “You’re original, I’ll give you that.”

Jim hummed out an uncertain note, unsure as to where to go next.

“I’ll make this easier on you considering this is your first time. Now, tell me, what are you wearing?” Bones asked.

“Clothes?” Jim hazarded.

“Dammit, Jim, do you wanna do this or not?” Bones asked, snarkiness clear in his tone. “You’re paying for this, m’dear, now take this seriously.”

Jim’s hummed in surprise at the other man‘s term of endearment, growled out in a soft Southern accent. There was something about the way the other man had spoken, words snarled into the phone and turning his voice low and gruff, that turned Jim on, cock pressing hard against the front of his pants. He rediscovered his voice after a breathless silence and managed a reply.

“I’m wearing a dark pair of pants and a shirt,” he tried.

“Okay, that’s a start,” Bones said. “What colour’s your shirt?”

“White,” Jim said. “And I’m still a little wet from the rain so it’s sticking to me.”

“See, you do know how this works,” Bones replied, with a smile clear in his tone. “Are you toned?”

Jim looked down at himself, uncertain as to quite how to respond to the man’s question.

“I look after myself. I haven‘t had any complaints yet, at any rate,” Jim said, with a shrug that he knew the other man couldn’t see.

“Well, let’s just say you are,” Bones said. “I like ‘em muscular. Okay, I want you to open your flies, now.”

“What?” Jim asked, sitting upright in shock.

“Dammit, Jim, I said open your flies,” Bones barked, a clear order in the tone of his voice.

Jim felt a frisson of arousal pulsing through his body at that, gathering behind his navel and coiling through his groin. He groaned softly, and shifted upon the couch, spreading his legs a little wider to ease the pressure upon his erection.

“I thought you weren’t gonna hurl abuse,” Jim managed to reply, with a laugh.

“That wasn’t abuse, kid. If I wanted to hurl insults, you’d soon know it,” Bones replied, and Jim could just imagine the eye roll that the other man‘s tone seemed to entail.

“I’d like to hear that,” Jim said, without thinking about what he was asking for.

“No, you wanted the bare bones, remember? You get the insults next time,” Bones replied.

“Promises, promises,” Jim chuckled.

“Are your flies open yet?” the other man asked, without preamble.

“Hold on a minute,” Jim sighed, as he flipped open his belt and pulled the zipper down upon his pants.

He knew that he could just as easily lie and say that his flies were undone, but he thought that defeated the object. If he wanted to do this, he decided he might as well go all the way and just do it. The situation had long since travelled past embarrassment now.

“I’m open,” Jim said, whispering now, a little furtively.

“Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but us,” Bones said, and that warm amusement was back in his voice again, words rolling deeply from somewhere unseen.

“God, you’ve got a fantastic voice,” Jim said, without thinking.

“So I’ve been told, m’dear,” Bones replied. “Now I want you to pull yourself out.”

Jim did it without thinking, a choked off breath easing past his lips as he wrapped slightly shaking fingers around his erection. He heard a softly amused laugh from the other end.

“I bet you’re just about ready to come and you haven’t even done anything yet,” Bones remarked, amusement adding further warmth to his words.

“Please,” Jim said, without thinking, eyes closed as he started rubbing himself. “Just talk to me. I wanna hear your voice.”

“I bet you could come from my voice alone,” Bones said, injecting a throaty growl into his voice.

Jim groaned aloud at that, fist working faster at himself, mouth hanging loosely open.

“Now, spit in your hand,” Bones ordered.

“What?” Jim asked, in confusion.

He hadn’t expected that.

“This is costing you money, Jim. I doubt you really wanna get some lube, right now,” Bones replied, with a harrumph. “Wanking with no lube is gonna hurt.”

Jim harrumphed, but did as the other man had asked, spitting loudly into his palm. He wrapped his slick hand around himself again, fingers cool against his heated skin.

“Are you touching yourself?” Bones asked, voice a deep purr, words drawling now.

Jim groaned, a choked off sound that died in his throat as his fist curled about his cock, giving it a few exploratory sweeps with his curled fingers. His breath hitched upwards, catching raggedly in his throat as he did so. His eyes closed, and he felt the warm heated skin on his palm working over his cock, fingers swirling, and he groaned louder. He heard Bones’ voice in his ears again, sounding amused.

“I’ll say you are. How does it feel?” he asked.

“Good. Good, so good, Bones,” Jim choked out. “Want you touching me.”

“Just imagine I am, darlin’,” Bones purred. “Bet you I could make you feel so good, wrap my mouth around you and lick you into coming.”

Jim’s breath grew laboured, eyes wide and sightlessly staring as he tried to imagine what the other man looked like. He envisioned full lips, a shock of dark hair and twinkling eyes, mouth moving slick and hot against his skin.

“I’m gonna take you down so deep, you’ll forget your own name and just scream for me. I wanna taste you coming down my throat and feel you hot and thick against my tongue,” Bones drawled in his ear. “And after you’ve come, I’m gonna take you, take you so hard you won’t walk straight for a goddamned week.”

Jim felt his orgasm pooling behind his navel, spiralling through him in pin-prick excitement, toes curling as his eyes closed in pleasure. He shouted as he came, hips stuttering up from the couch as he thought of Bones sucking him off, mouth stretched wide around his cock. With a voice like that, he had to be hot, all smoky promises and heated glances over firelight, bourbon soaked kisses stolen in moonlight.

“Bones,” he whined as he relaxed, head thunking back against the couch again.

“You did good, Jim, you’re a good boy,” Bones purred, into his ear.

Jim couldn’t say anything for a while, chest heaving, eyes sightlessly staring at nothing.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I‘ve never had anybody come on their first time. Usually too nervous,” Bones commented, and it sounded, to Jim, as though the other man was smiling. “Gotta admit, kid, you sounded pretty hot when you came there. Bet you looked even hotter in the flesh.”

“Well, maybe next time you should see me,” Jim said, impetuously.

Bones, at least, laughed at that. Bones’ laugh was surprisingly rich and touchable, sending pleasurable shivers skittering over Jim’s skin.

“Little too early for that, Jim,” he said, in amusement.

Jim grinned at that; at least that hadn’t been an outright no, even though it wasn’t a direct yes, either. He sighed, and stared up at the ceiling.

“How was that for your first time, huh?” Bones asked.

“That was good, really good. Thanks, Bones,” Jim said, with a sigh. “I did kinda need that.”

“Guess you got lucky tonight after all,” Bones agreed, amiably.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did, thanks. Same time next week, then?” Jim asked, hopefully. “You are gonna be on next Thursday, aren’t you? I don’t think I want to talk to anyone else.”

“You’re in luck, darlin’. I’m available on the phone every Tuesday and Thursday. Same time next week, then, Jim,” Bones replied, with an amused chuckle.

“Okay,” Jim said, before the dialling tone finally sounded against his ear.

Jim placed the phone aside, feeling cool air fan across his exposed cock and he shivered, more from the post-orgasmic high than from true chill. He smiled to himself; despite having had the shittiest day to rival all shitty days, it hadn’t ended up too badly. Strangely, when held up against the impending search for another job, the thought of talking to Bones once again gave Jim something to look forward to.