long distance video calls with soap
my first time writing anything and it’s smut ish. i’m usually a reader and recommender but god do I love this concept
cw: phone sex, mutual masterbation, vibrator use, voyeurism. (let me know if I missed anything)
you and johnny are in a new relationship. it’s your first relationship where the guys got an actual career. he’s someone important, he can’t tell you the details just that it’s demanding and can be dangerous at times.
you embrace the long distance phone calls and rare video chats. it’s worth it because when he’s home it's unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. you know he’s military or something along those lines, the time differences and crazy schedules make it obvious.
after a few months together he opens up. tells you about the team, his cap, gaz, and of course simon. how the long hours and being away all the time gets to the team, he’s pissed none of them ever talk about it.
him having someone to come home to, it changed his mindset, he feels bad for them. it’s empathy, a bit of pity. he’s having such a good time with you, it’s not new for him to want to share the things he loves with his teammates.
the team just got settled into bed, working for almost two days straight in some random country, everyone was out as soon as they hit their pillows, deployment’s running too long. it feels like an eternity since he’s seen you, felt you. he knows he has to keep external contact as low as possible, but the thought of seeing you. it’s his forbidden fruit.
he’s a catholic, in hindsight not a great one, he kills, does unspeakable things for his job. so what’s another tally? one that he knows he deserves, because he’s been working so hard, it would be worth it.
the video call only rings twice before you pick up.
5:33 am.
he should be sorry for waking you up, but he needs you. you answer in the darkness of your room face illuminated by your phone screen. the lights are off in the barracks but you can see him in his bunk, shirtless, an arm tucked behind his head.
he looks like the product of a wet dream. one of which you’ve had too many of to be relaxed seeing him like this. he asks you what you’re wearing, tells you he needs you. he’s desperate, working long hours, going through all kinds of shitty situations. he says he’ll return the favour once he’s home. you know he will, he always does.
you don’t resist when he asks you to lift your shirt. you know he’s been working so hard, it’s the least you could do. he tells you to grab the vibrator he got you just before he left. knows how sometimes you need it quick and strong, not afraid of you liking it more than him, he knows how desperate you get while he’s gone for long periods of time.
he’s whispering praise to you, you can see the movement of his arm behind the screen. the laptop propped up on his drool worthy abs. it’s quick, the vibrator hitting in just the right spot, johnnys not the only desperate one. you haven’t seen him in months.
johnny knows he should turn his volume down. the sounds of your pleasure are bouncing off the walls of the small barracks. he just can’t help himself, too focused on your contorted face, your sounds, the quiet hum of your vibrator.
it should be embarrassing how fast he comes, but seeing you, even through a screen, it's more than he’s had, his imagination can’t compare to seeing the real thing. his grunts and heavy breathing are enough to push you over the edge. you both writhe in pleasure, thousands of miles between you too, but it’s not enough to keep you apart. you’re even more tired, a good orgasm and seeing johnny, you know he can’t stay on the line longer, but you want nothing more than to actually get a chance to talk.
he tells you he’ll be home soon, make up for him being gone longer than he said he would be. he wishes you a good night saying he's got another busy day tomorrow. you blow him a kiss goodbye, making him promise to come home safe.
“alweys dae lass”
the call ends, you set the vibrator and your phone back on your nightstand, rolling over and drifting back into dreamland.
johnny sets the laptop to his side, wondering how he’s going to clean himself up without waking everyone up. just when he’s about to say fuck it and sacrifice his boxers, a box of tissues hits his shoulder. he catches it before it hits the ground and looks to the bunk across the small room, he can see the outline of the infamous skull mask staring back at him.
“didn't know you had such a pretty bird waiting for you back home johnny”
he swears he sees simon adjusting himself beneath his blankets. but it’s dark, he hasn’t slept in almost 40 hours. it’s just his mind playing tricks on him right?
is this actually good? I like it but it’s a word vomit of my thoughts so i’m insanely biased. do I continue writing or stick to recommendations…
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When Johnny was a boy, he lived on the coast. The beach was his and his sisters’ playground; the ocean was their playmate. Granted, the water was always freezing, and Johnny’s ma would chastise him constantly, saying he’d catch a cold playing in the water. But no matter how many times he was scolded, he was always drawn back to the sea. It called to him. It felt like home.
After he enlisted, Johnny missed the ocean for a long time. He couldn’t control where he was stationed, where he was deployed. So it was always by lucky chance if he got even a glimpse of any body of water, let alone the sea. He struggled to sleep without the sound of waves crashing, over and over like the breath of a giant. When he did manage to fall asleep, Johnny dreamt of the ocean. He longed for it. Ached for it.
And then he met a man whose voice sounded like waves hitting the rocky shore and whose eyes were the exact shade of blue that haunted Johnny’s dreams. He couldn’t help but stare, which provoked a sharp response from the Lieutenant. Johnny, of course, looked away then, but he kept stealing glances, entranced by the fragments of ocean caught in the man’s eyes.
And as Johnny began to know the Lieutenant better, he began to realize more and more how like the ocean Ghost was. He could be calm and still, or tumultuous and raging. He was powerful and deadly and contained dark depths most people dared not venture into. But Johnny dared. He plunged in, not minding the cold. And he found that this man…Simon…was like the sea in other ways as well. He was playful and beautiful and so vast.
There would be high tides, where Simon would submerge Johnny with his love. Where Johnny was floating in a serene sea of caresses and soft whispers. He could sleep at night again when he shared a bed with Simon; the ebb and flow of Simon’s breath was familiar and soothing.
And there would be low tides, where Simon would pull away. Too scared of himself. Of his feelings. Of getting too attached. But no matter how far he’d recede, Simon would always come rushing back. And Johnny would dig his feet into the sand and let Simon love him however he could. Johnny was strong. He was patient. He had waited for the ocean. He had found his way back home. He found it in a man with sandy blond hair and deep blue eyes.
Johnny no longer felt that longing, that ache. He no longer had to search for the sea. He held the whole ocean in his arms.
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