Work Text:
The office lights had long since dimmed to that dull, humming half-life. Nothing felt alive, even you, yourself, were barely holding it together. You sat slouched in your chair, tie loosened, sleeves rolled halfway up your forearms, breathed in the faint smell of dust and overheated electronics clinging stubbornly to the stale air.
You’d lost track of time hours ago.
The screen in front of you blurred into something meaningless: numbers, reports, orders you’d already memorized and forgotten twice over. None of it stuck. None of it mattered. Not when your phone sat just within reach, face down, like it was waiting patiently for you to cave. You clicked your tongue softly, irritation flickering- not at the work, not really. More at your own selves.
At how easy it was to lose focus. At how predictable you’d become.
Your fingers hovered over the device for a second longer than necessary before you finally decided to flip it over, thumb dragging across the screen without any further hesitation. The call rang once. Twice. Seconds felt like centuries… And eventually, on the other line, he picked up.
Not bother enough for single subtle “hi,” you cooed softly into the receiver. "I have a favor to ask, since I’ll be stuck at this godforsaken company for the next few days." Your tongue clicked with irritation, fingers idly traced along the waistband. "Think you could do that for me, sweetheart? I’ve been missing you lately..." Your breath hitched as you tugged at the waistband, and an inevitable shiver ran down your spine at the sound of Michael’s breathing through the phone.
"...you have no idea what you’ve fucking done to me."
Your low, sinful tone caught Michael’s attention off guard. His grip on the phone tightened, pulse spiking as that familiar heat coiled in his gut.
"Dirty fucker," he quietly murmured, and through the quiet hum of the line, his voice dipped low. It sounded so smooth, measured, and impossibly graceful in the invisible space between you and him. "Calling me up late like this, whining about missing me after ignoring my texts all day? Not a great move... But hey, I’ve been wanting to see you around too."
He shifted on the couch, running a hand through his hair and another to rub on his thigh as his voice turned raspy. Michael’s chest tightened. This had become an occasional event between you and him, as your shifts stretched longer and longer, bleeding into nights where you didn’t come home at all. He told himself it was nothing. That you were just tired. That it didn’t mean anything more than a heated moment that you were desperate. Yet the instant your voice softened like that, he felt all those little butterflies in his stomach all over again. It was a flicker of something he shouldn’t have indulged.
He feared what this was turning into- something that only existed in late hours and quiet hopelessness, when you had nothing left to give, but this. And he should’ve stopped it there, should’ve drawn a line before this became the only way you reached for him. Still, he never quite pulled away. And God- he could never deny how he loved the way you sounded like that. The quiet, undeniable hunger in your voice always seemed to turn toward him aching deliciously. "Name your favor. But don’t tempt me like this unless you plan to follow through when I see you." Yet something personal, something that sat so wrong in his chest long after the words left him.
You chuckled dryly at that. "Apologies, sassy boy. This job sucks. Once I’m done fetching these dirty coins, I’ll flee soon…" Sometimes you forgot how sarcastic that man could be. And it’d be a lie to say the hard-to-get streak didn’t drive you insane at first. Your palm pressed against the painful throb in your crotch, trying to ease the unbearable primal want. If God were to grant you wishes, there would be nothing in this world more tempting than sinking into oblivion: having your roommate kneeling right at this moment, beneath you, giving you a well-deserved rest after all this exhausting hell.
"Say my name... I missed your voice. I missed your touch. I missed your pretty lips. You have no idea how I’d die on the spot to have them on mine right now." Your voice trembled as you decisively freed yourself, and the sudden brush of cold office air making you shiver. "Michael." You sighed into the device. "You know the spell you have on me. I want to hear you say it like you mean it...”
The sound of his name failed on your lips so soft -way too soft -anguished to the point of being almost devastating. His throat went dry, and the poor man took a sharp gulp before groaning out your name as if it were a prayer. "You don’t get to say my name like that and expect me not to lose it."
His fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans as he fought down a moan.
"You’re such a fucking tease... talking about missing me while you’re sitting there playing with yourself? You wanna hear my voice? Hear how bad I want you?" His hand drifted lower, voice thinning to a ragged whisper, barely audible. "Been thinking about you all day. How greedy you get when I take you deep, how I’d whimper when you pull my hair and mumble your praises over and over, how satisfying it would be when you’re buried deep inside of me. Those little sounds you make that you thought I wouldn’t hear... The way you fall apart when I’ve got you exactly where I want you. You think I don’t miss that?"
A trembling gasp tore from him as he finally gave in, hips jerking as he touched himself. The breaths of your own followed closely, hitched, shallow, uneven through the line. His pitiful sobs nearly sent you over the edge.
"...Fuck. Please, say it again. Call me by my name."