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Tango has been home again for a few days, his bruises are already healing but still very visible, especially the one around his nose, a dark patch blooming.
He'd sent Jimmy a picture of it earlier because they've been texting. Back and forth. Back and forth. Having a call whenever they could.
It’s been several hours since Tango sent the image, only checking once or twice for a reply, knowing Jimmy was out for the day.
In the evening, when he’s already in bed, his phone finally chimes, a notification pops up. Fumbling to open it he is greeted with quite the sight.
A shirtless picture of Jimmy, the bruises around his neck - mostly hickeys - still visible. As well as the ones on his shoulder. And his collarbone. And most definitely also lower.
Thinking for a moment, he texts back, "Different type of bruises :P" but he can't stop himself from clicking on the picture again the second after he hits send.
Of course his eyes roam over Jimmy's body, as if he hadn't studied him enough up close when they met. Every bit of slightly tanned skin that is marked in faint purple. Every bit of muscle that's clearly visible.
But once he's had his fill, and Jimmy is still typing, Tango looks at the background. Not a picture taken at a gym or the rink. He has taken it just now.
The thought sends a warmth through his body, Jimmy took the photo for him. Just for him, he hopes.
It must be Jimmy's bathroom then. A can of deodorant, a razor and a few bottles he can’t make out, are visible on the edge of the screen, a dark, blurred window behind him.
Sure, they’ve been talking. A lot. But this is a different glimpse into Jimmy’s life, albeit a small one. Tango finds himself smiling with a deep found fondness, when the response catches his attention.
“thought youd like the view”
And Tango can’t even deny it. Just looking at Jimmy’s body again makes him think of folding him into that locker, and with his eyes closed he can almost feel Jimmy holding onto him, his hands digging into his shoulders. Remembering the way the pain from his injury twisted into something a lot more pleasurable as he sunk into him again and again.
Heat coils in Tango’s gut before he remembers that he still needs to actually reply to Jimmy. It was easier in person, easier when they were still high strung with the adrenaline from their fight. Or when he was hearing Jimmy’s breathy moans right at his ear, with strong hands holding onto his back.
Tango should respond but his body is already reacting to the images his mind conjures based on his memories. He's had amazing sex before, sure. But everything he had with Jimmy is so much more vivid in his mind and he can’t wait to bury his hands in his hair and feel his skin, his chest below his fingertips.
He runs a hand through his hair, tugging for a little on a blonde strand that is still damp from his earlier shower, before running it down his face, down over his beard with a sigh. Then another message pops up. “got distracted?”
A chuckle escapes him, feeling caught but not in a bad way. Biting his lip he replies, “What if I did?” unable to keep his heartbeat just quite normal. Followed up with an immediate, “Impatient?”
Slowly his free hand travels down his chest, still shirtless, not having bothered putting one on after drying off, down along his navel and the hair below.
It's pure relief when he grabs himself through his shorts, even if it isn’t the same. How would Jimmy’s mouth feel on him? How warm and wet and just right it could be around him. Could he take all of him? Would he use his hands for help? What noises would he make and how would his face look with his lips puffed and drool running down his chin.
Tango’s hold on his phone is loose, as he looks at the shirtless picture Jimmy had sent. The glow of the screen illuminates his face in the darkness of his bedroom and he barely notices the next message, too busy drinking up every bit of visible skin.
It’s been a while since anyone has gotten to him this much.
Tabbing back out of the image may have been the best decision he’s made all night; the sight that greets him is already getting a choked noise out of him.
It’s another picture, a different angle from before, this time in what must be the bedroom, right on top of mussled grey sheets. Jimmy’s smile is just barely in the picture.
Instead the focus is on his body, the muscles along his stomach on full display.
For a moment Tango forgets to breathe, watching the way Jimmy pulls the waistband of his sweatpants just a bit to show off the hairs trailing down, but not any lower. Though the pants themselves do little to hide anything, clearly showing off Jimmy’s shape.
But the most important thing to Tango, the part his eyes immediately zone in on, are the hickeys, the fading purple bruises he left behind on the younger man’s body.
He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly feeling dry while simultaneously watering at the thought of getting his mouth onto the man again.
Tango wants to press his lips, open mouthed kisses, or maybe his entire face against the clearly visible bulge. He wants to hear the way Jimmy would gasp, wants to hear him moan his name again.
“like what you see?”
A bit more than just kneading himself through the thin fabric of his boxers now, he tries to think of a reply.
Settling for a quick, “wanna see how much I like it?” Tango turns to switch on the lamp on his nightstand, while shimmying out of the taut fabric around his waist.
The room illuminates a little and Tango sits up, swallowing again as he fumbles for his camera app.
Some rational part of him knows that sending this may not be the wisest choice but Jimmy went the first step and he can't leave the kid hanging now.
He's holding his phone away from himself with one hand, the other around his cock, standing firmly at attention, while trying not to get his face in the picture. Just in case.
Finding an angle where it's not just his member is difficult and he keeps shifting, adjusting the way he sits or holds his phone.
When he finally finds a position that works he takes two pictures. The first one ended up too shaky and the second one… Between the lighting and the more than unflattering view of his body, he deletes it before it can see the light of day.
It’s frustrating him, the time passing between Jimmy’s last message and Tango not responding. Not wanting to make Jimmy wait without a reply, he sends another message, “might like it too much.” He hopes it comes across with enough humor.
Giving it another shot, Tango tries a different approach, more sitting, then another one more laying down. With a sigh he even gets up and turns on the ceiling lights but he can’t help but cringe at how pale his skin looks like this, every gray hair on his chest more visible than ever before.
Tango realizes how hard it is to take a good looking picture like this and his patience is more than fraying, glancing back at the picture Jimmy had sent him again and again. There is also a hint of admiration now, at how naturally good Jimmy’s photo looks.
His phone chimes again. “i wanna see” Jimmy responds and Tango can practically hear the needy tone in his voice.
Deciding to change his course of action Tango strokes himself to Jimmy’s picture again for a few moments before pressing the button to start a call.
It rings once before Jimmy picks up and the first thing Tango can hear is how heavy his breath is.
Tango’s own voice struggles to not come across as needy, his tone low, “Not seeing it tonight. Just want you to focus on my voice instead. Can you do that for me?”
It’s easy to picture Jimmy, especially with how clear of a picture the young man paints with just his noises alone. Tango can even hear in his agreeing hum that he’s biting his lip.
So he tries to get more out of him, “Come on, say it. I wanna hear you.” His voice is raspy, making sure Jimmy can hear how affected Tango himself is.
“Yeah, I can, I can do that.” The sound of his voice is accompanied by the rustling of sheets.
“Good. So good for me.” The praise tumbles out of Tango and hopefully directly into Jimmy’s ear. “Come on. You still got those pants on?”
Jimmy’s voice almost sounds pained, if he didn’t know any better. “Yeah, I’m still wearing them.”
“Keep ‘em on till I tell you to.” His voice is low and the hint of a smile must be audible with how the younger man is reacting. Just imagining Jimmy, all needy, hips bucking against his hand while palming himself through his pants, friction but just not enough.
“Okay. Okay." Jimmy’s breathing is already heavier. Tango likes how he immediately gives in, just listening.
“Just over your pants.” Tango repeats while starting to lazily stroke himself, sticking with a slow pace for now. Of course he knows it’s hypocritical of him but is it so bad that he just wants to hear Jimmy whine?
A breathy “Tango,” is all he gets from Jimmy. Hearing his name whispered like this sends more pleasure directly to his groin.
Tango reaches out for the lube on the nightstand and lets it dribble over his hand before resting it on his hard member again, a deep breath when the cold liquid touches his warm skin, letting it warm up like this for a second before moving again.
“I can hear you,” Jimmy points out. Tango had hoped so, and he angles himself so that the phone is just the slightest bit closer, picking up every slick noise.
“I can’t hear you though.” Tango rasps back into the microphone. “Think you can whimper for me again?”
Of course Jimmy obliges, every breathy noise getting a little bit louder and louder until it's just needy enough. “So good,” Tango praises him and the immediate reaction is a held back moan.
More praise falls out of Tango’s mouth and he revels in every noise this draws out of Jimmy. “Don’t hold those pretty moans back, honey.” Meanwhile his own groans are low, but loud enough for Jimmy to hear.
“I can’t.” Another not quieted down noise. “Joel-”, He moans his roommate's name accidentally, “He’d- he’d hear me.”
Tango is caught between a laugh and a frown, his tone sharper now. “You better start moaning my name instead.”
A quick whimpered “Tango” is not enough though. “Moan it, for me. Please, sweetheart.”
For a second he’s not moving, just waiting until, finally Jimmy gives in.
When Tango finally gets what he asked for it is moaned with barely any hesitancy now, which is good enough. “So well done, keep going for me. Louder.”
His own pace picks up as Jimmy begs “Tango. Please-” not even for anything specific. This leaves Tango to drag it out of him with delight. “Hm, what is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”
“More?” Jimmy says it like it’s a question, then switching to pleading with a shaking voice.
Before Tango gets a chance to tease him, the desperate plea of “More please” is right in his ear.
How is he meant to resist this? “You’ve been doing so well. Go ahead.”
He wants to hear Jimmy fall apart. He wishes he could see how he’s laying on his bed with that pretty cock in his hand, sweats pushed down in one desperate motion just far enough to be practical.
The sight of Jimmy flushed and needy, shoved into the locker showed him how far down the pink-red tint goes when he gets close.
The bruises must contrast nicely with that.
“God, I just want to feel you right now, you know that? Felt so good around me, so tight.” Tango’s mind is busy imagining it is Jimmy’s warm hole, instead of his slicked up hand wrapped around himself. His pace is faster now, not restraint anymore, focused on Jimmy’s noises and the way the pleasure starts to boil.
The words spill out of Tango on their own at this point, full of need. “Want to get into my truck and drive up there and fuck you right now”
“Don’t think you’d last the entire drive.” Jimmy teases back, his own voice breathless, making the words seem more needy than probably intended.
This draws a breathy laugh out of the older man. “I’d make sure I would. For you. Couldn’t leave you hanging.” The promise isn’t too far from the truth. Tango could get into his car now and be there by morning and fuck this man senseless.
“Soon.” Tango vows. “After I take you out for dinner.” Hearing Jimmy’s half moaned laugh is just getting him closer and closer. He’ll fold Jimmy over again soon enough.
“Wanna feel you again,” Jimmy whines
This is what tips Tango over. Pleasure burns through his body and his hips fuck up into his own fist, chasing his release. Praising murmurs of Jimmy’s name spill from his lips, as his member leaks until he shoots his load over his hand and his stomach. Finally the tension in his stomach lets up.
But on the other end of the phone Jimmy’s now high pitched voice sounds, a messy mixture of Tango’s name and more pleas.
“You wanna finish too? Cum for me, Jimmy. Please.” Tango’s voice is gentler now as he’s still catching his breath. The hand around his member is still now, just holding himself as Jimmy is so close himself.
When Jimmy cums he doesn’t seem to care about his roommate anymore, not with how loud he’s moaning. Repeating Tango’s name like a prayer until his voice wavers, a beautiful sound right between a whimper and a moan.
For a moment both are quiet, Tango just basks in the audible breathing that he can hear through his phone, while reaching for a tissue to clean himself up.
Before he can even get any more praise out, tell Jimmy how well he did, the other’s voice sounds soft, more vulnerable on the other end. “Can you stay? On the phone?” The request is simple, and Tango can hear Jimmy shift on the other end, probably tucking himself in.
Unable to keep the slightest teasing smile out of his voice, he asks, “You’re not gonna clean up?”
Practically able to hear Jimmy's whine of complaint at even the thought of getting up, he chuckles. “It's okay, baby, I'll stay on the call till you fall asleep.”
Of course it would be nicer to actually hold Jimmy, to feel his warmth, the slight sweat that’s glistening on his skin. To not just hear his breathing but feel it against his own chest.
But this might just be the next best thing and for tonight, Tango will take it.