topino | (no subject)

"Honestly," he says, and he feels this in his heart, "I don't think it's too quick either."

Maybe it's just that he's had time and time on his own, but Nicky has come around to the understanding that what he feels is real and hasn't been something he's invented. Time away from Joe has been hard, but at the same time, it's allowed him to sort out his feelings.

And what he knows is that he loves him, terribly, and he doesn't want that to stop. "I think we can search for something with a very nice bedroom and studio that we can share. Your art, my writing," he says fondly, closing his eyes to imagine such a space, with great beams of sunlight cascading in.

He clucks his tongue in dismay. "Joe," he warns. "It's less than a day. Don't spend that money on me, not when we can stay on the phone the whole time." Well, most of it, at least.

"Good," Joe agrees, warmly. "We wouldn't want to be hasty about this now, would we?" he teases, gently. It's been long enough, Joe thinks. If Nicky had some sort of hidden flaw, a terrible secret that would make Joe dislike him, Joe would have found out at this point. As it is, he finds even Nicky's flaws and annoying habits charming, so he's not concerned that they will argue if they move in together.

"I agree. We can share a studio, if it's big enough." He grins, slowly. "And I think it'll be good for our inspiration, to have each other there." Since Joe is going to be doing a lot of sketches of Nicky anyway, he might as well be there to sit for them.

"I know, I know," Joe says, fully aware that it is foolish to even consider joining Nicky now. He chuckles, amused at the offer. "Oh yeah? You want to stay on the phone until tomorrow?" Not a bad idea, though he fears it might become impractical after a while.

"I think we were hasty the minute I saw you in that art gallery and my cock started telling me what I wanted to do to you," Nicky confesses, knowing that it's inappropriate, but honestly, he doesn't care. He's been away from Joe for so long and he's so tired of his own hand that he's happy to be a little lewd on a phone call.

Plus, Joe is painting him such vivid pictures of their life together, and it's very much a turn-on. "Is that what we're calling it? Our inspiration?" he echoes with a playful smile. "I think we will absolutely have that, but also, a nice desk to bend each other over."

His heart beats faster to think of speaking to Joe for the next day. "We'll both have to sleep at some point," he admits. "So maybe not the whole day."

Joe does not mind a little inappropriate talk on the phone and it shows in the way he laughs, throwing his head back. "Is that how you remember our first meeting?" he inquires, amused. "I wouldn't have guessed, I couldn't read you at all. I wasn't even sure you were enjoying my outrageous flirting."

He hums, grinning wider. "You're very bold tonight, Nico," he points out, clearly appreciative. He wonders if that's anything to do with the distance between them. "But yes. I second buying a sturdy desk for the studio. For... artistic reasons, clearly."

"Yeah," Joe agrees. "I'm not having you snore right into my ear over the phone too," he teases. "And you'll have to go and sign more books tomorrow, I don't want to intrude. We can talk as long as we want, otherwise."

Edited 2021-06-01 23:05 (UTC)

"I was very irritated with how attractive and talented you were, considering you had been tearing me to strips in our communications," Nicky says with a delicate little sniff, as if his honour is in need of defending (when really, he'd gotten the man and more out of it, so what defending is really needed?)

"I miss you," he admits, subdued, but an explanation for why he's being so forward. "It's been a very long time, you know, since you and I have been together," he sighs, and thinks of Joe splayed out on the desk.

It's a very good image and suddenly, he is aching to touch himself.

"I do not snore!" he protests, and now there is honour to defend. "Joe," he warns, with a growl.

"I was mostly stunned that you didn't turn out to be a balding sixty-year-old man with a bitter face, honestly," Joe says, the memory fond. "You started making fun of me and you were so hot it took me a few whole seconds to think about anything to retort."

He makes a soft noise, agreeing. "Too long, Nico. But you will be home soon, yes?" he says, hopefully. He can't wait.

"You do not snore," Joe agrees, laughing at the obvious growl in Nicky's voice. "I apologize, habibi. Tell me more about that sturdy desk you want to put in the studio and what we might do on it." Because if Nicky wants to whisper filthy things in his ear, Joe is fully willing to play along.

"Who knows, maybe in thirty years, that's exactly what I'll be," Nicky jests, with an amused smile as he thinks about his future. "Though, if I am bitter, then I hope I'm not balding. I can only imagine so many faults at once in this hypothetical world."

"I will be home the minute I can be," Nicky vows. "Maybe even sooner. The minute I am done my last signing, I am driving home to you, Yusuf." He will speed, he will break traffic laws, and he will get home to him.

"It must be very sturdy. That way, any time I worked at it again, I would think about what we did. If it broke, I wouldn't have those memories. Oak, maybe?" he suggests, sliding his fingers slowly into his boxers. "Or cherry wood?"

"You won't be bitter in thirty years, not if I have a say in it," Joe states, amused. "And I do hope you won't be balding, either. I love your hair." It's soft and silky and very nice to tug on.

He smiles at the promise. "Drive safe, Nico. I don't want us to meet again at the hospital because you were in a crash." He leans back in his chair, relaxing. "I'll be waiting for you. I'll cook you something good and wear that shirt you like," he offers, softly.

Joe laughs, the sound low and quiet, when Nicky starts talking about what kind of wood they should choose for the desk. "Your dirty talk really needs work," he teases. "But cherry wood sounds good. It's a pretty color, too. It'll look good against your naked skin," he adds, dreamily.

"If I'm still with you in thirty years, I have no idea how I'll be anything but the happiest man in the world," he admits, knowing that he's tempting fate by saying such things when he's just told Joe not to come and visit him for these last few hours.

Yet, how can he not say it?

Now that they're talking about moving in, saying things like 'love', it sets Nicky's mind to the future. In thirty years, he could still be with this incredible man. In fact, he could be married to him, and it would be the best thing in the world. Smiling contentedly to himself, he shifts the phone to the bed to slide his hand down a little lower, wrapped around his cock.

"I like you in every shirt," he counters. "How will you know which I like you best in?" Then, his breath hitches a touch, giving him away. "Well, if it's my skin we're matching to..."

He is tempting fate indeed, and Joe makes a soft, emotional noise at the idea that they will still be together in thirty years, and happy to be. It's a very nice fantasy and he won't hide how much he likes it. "I'll try my best to make sure of that," he answers, very tenderly, and closes his eyes so he doesn't pull his laptop closer and look at ticket prices again.

Joe laughs warmly, amused by Nicky's reply. "I was thinking the blue one but if you want another, we can make that happen for you too," he returns, his eyebrows arching a little at the way Nicky is breathing now. "Are you okay, Nicolo?" he asks, knowingly. "You sound pretty breathless of a sudden."

He knows exactly what Nicky is doing and will shamelessly do the same, holding the phone between his cheek and his shoulder so he can unzip his trousers and palm himself. "I think cherry wood would go well with my complexion too, so it's definitely the best choice," he reveals, grinning. "We can take turns, you know."

"I like the blue one," he muses, as he thinks about the way Joe's shoulders look in it. It's definitely enough to help feed his mind with beautiful images that he knows he won't regret, smiling in a daze as he keeps stroking himself, careful not to dislodge the phone.

He hums softly when Joe starts to talk about the desk and his breathless state. "I'm letting my boyfriend sweet talk me with sex over the phone," he says, "I'm perfect."

Nicky doesn't talk about touching himself, because he knows he doesn't have to. "I do like taking turns. Sharing is very generous, after all." He gasps softly as he touches himself a little harder, just a little faster.

"Then the blue one it is," Joe confirms, grinning. He'll iron it, even, so that it sits crisp and tight on his chest. He chuckles, throwing his head back a little, his own breathing hitching at how good it feels to just rub himself through his underwear. "Is that what's happening, Nicky? Am I sweet-talking you?" he teases, his voice warm.

"Sharing is very generous," Joe confirms, grinning. "As your poor boyfriend you've abandoned for weeks, I feel like I should get the first turn, though," he adds, his voice going lower, more intimate, as he wraps his fingers around himself. "And you should let me splay you on that desk and put my mouth all over you."

Nicky makes a little noise of complaint at the image of Joe in his mind, mainly because he wants to do plenty of his own touching, but he can't do that if Joe gets his turn first. Still, is it a bad thing to lie back and let Joe do all the work?

No, no, it's very much not.

He bites his lower lip as he starts to stroke himself faster. "I would let you do anything to me, tesoro," he vows, breath hitching softly. "Tell me what you are doing now. What you look like."

Complaint? Not if Joe has anything to say about it.

He can hear Nicky's breathing go a little faster and grins, his eyes closed. "I know," he says, his voice low, heat twisting sharply in the pit of his stomach at what he would do with Nicky.

"I'm..." he swallows dryly, and starts again. "Sitting in the living room. I'm wearing a white T-shirt. It has paint on it," he dutifully describes and then grins, because there's nothing sexy about that. "Running pants. Very easy to slip your hand inside, as you know. I have." He strokes himself nice and slow, humming in pleasure.

Nicky takes his time inhaling deeply, and pretending that it's Joe's hand on his cock is good, but it's not enough. He knows it isn't, but he also knows it's what he has to live with, for another twenty-four hours.

Next time, when he goes on a book tour, he is not letting Joe out of his sight. He will make him come, and they will have learned their lesson.

"Tell me about what you were painting," he insists, instead of the clothes. That's what he knows will bring him off, hearing Joe speak with such passion about his project.

Joe grins at the request, because of course Nicky would want to hear about his painting and bring himself off to Joe's description of his work. He's weird like that, and Joe loves it.

"Kinky, Nicolo," he teases, stroking himself steadily and closing his eyes as he remembers. "It's a landscape, mostly greens and blues, very peaceful," he describes. "A little impressionistic in the style, because I wanted..." he'll talk about his plan for the painting then, and the idea behind it, his voice low and breathless.

Nicky grunts lightly when Joe calls him kinky, when really he is just appreciative of all the right things. It's not his fault that his boyfriend has already trained him to appreciate art.

That, and he's been an art critic for his side hustle for some time. Good art turns him on.

"You wanted...?" he prods, breath hitching as he listens to Joe explain, and his beautiful voice with those dulcet tones bring him so close to the edge. "Joe," he moans.

"Yeah? This is really doing it for you, isn't it?" Joe answers when Nicky moans his name, his voice very tender and very heated. Nicky's kink might be Joe's art, but Joe's kink is knowing Nicky is having a great time, which is just as oddly specific.

"Go on, then," Joe coaxes, stroking himself too, his eyes closed as he pictures Nicky like a Renaissance nude, flushed and lovely. "Come for me, tesoro, I want to hear it." He grins. "And when you come back, I'll show you all the sketches I've done of you while you were away."

"Shut up," Nicky mutters under his breath, because he doesn't think that Joe should be teasing him for finding him so very sexy, especially when the idea of Joe's hands filthy with paint and working on a canvas is an image that turns him on the way it does.

It's not his fault, he's fairly sure anyone with eyes would think the same.

He licks his lips, thrilled with the permission and eager to play with it, getting rougher with his strokes, imagining Joe's fingers stained with blues and greens staining his pale skin. "The sketches," he gasps, "and then I want you to touch me with your fingers, press fingerprints into my hips."

Groaning, he bucks them forward into his hand. "Joe," he whines. "Joe, for you," he vows, and is so loud as he comes that he's sure his next door hotel neighbour is going to be very cross.

"You don't want me to shut up," Joe corrects, sounding fond and amused. He likes that Nicky is finding the time to grumble even now, even when they're doing this and he's getting so close.

"We can do that," Joe agrees, warm and pleased. I'll put charcoal fingerprints all over you. Paint you again too, if you'd like, it's been a while." He'd like to paint Nicky's face, he thinks, make him into something different and beautiful. He's not averse to leaving fingerprints and paint prints all over his body, either.

Nicky is very loud as he comes, louder than he normally is, and Joe loves it, stilling to listen better, his breathing hitching. "Oh, Nico," he sighs, delighted. "You sound so lovely, I can just picture you making a mess of yourself."

No, he doesn't. He wants Joe to keep whispering seductively in his ear for the next few decades of his life, but it seems a little forward to say that when he's on the cusp of coming.

It really only takes the image of's Joe's black-stained fingers to tip him over the edge, whimpering softly as all the noise seems to get sucked back in, almost like him coming is what he's been waiting for.

"Housekeeping will be getting a very generous tip," he guarantees, breathless and panting. "Joe, tesoro, have you...?"

"I'm sure they will," Joe says, warmly. He knows Nicolo is very generous with these things, especially when he feels that it is well-deserved.

"I'm close," he whispers, resuming his stroking, letting his head fall back against the couch. "Thinking about how you will kiss me when you return." He sighs, happily. "How you will look with my fingerprints all over you, giving me that look when your eyes are so dark."

"I will not let you leave my arms," is Nicky's solemn promise.

His voice is soft and steady, a gentle thing, because he wants to close his eyes and imagine Joe in his arms, thinking of how he may actually jump him the moment he arrives home. Their home, or at least, their home until they find something that suits them both.

"I will read to you from my book after you paint me, I will kiss you until I ache from it," he guarantees, with a soft and happy sigh. "Because I love you, Joe."

Joe smiles, his eyes still closed. "What makes you think I'd even try to leave your arms," he argues playfully, his voice going a little shaky as his pleasure builds.

He hums, low and wanting, at what Nicky is promising in that soft voice, biting on his lower lip to give himself some contact there as he pictures Nicky kissing him as soon as he returns.

Nicky's words of love are met with a soft groan and Joe manages to whisper that he loves Nicky too before he comes, breathing hard as he strokes himself through his pleasure.

Now that they have both found their pleasure, Nicky feels cold and lonely, even though Joe is on the other end of the line. He's regretting telling Joe not to come, because as much as he wants to believe he can be patient, he's also realizing that it's not the case.

He waits to hear Joe's breathing settle before he speaks.

"We are going to be a pair, aren't we? Unable to drift too far from each other for the rest of our lives." He puts it out there, almost tentatively, testing the waters to see how Joe will react to such a statement.