Title: ... We'll Call You

Series: Yes - Billet Doux. Although this is supposed to be a series of stand alone stories in the same universe, you may, however, need to have read '...Who's the Kinkiest One of All' for certain... ahem... parts of this to make sense <eg>

Author: Alyse (alyse@CI5Ops.co.uk)

Archive: CI5 Operational Control (http://www.CI5Ops.co.uk), Britslash

Category: The New Professionals - Curtis/Keel.

Rating: NC17.

Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers. No warnings. Sex (surprise, surprise).

Summary: Three words - telephone sex... again.

Feedback: Yes please, to alyse@CI5Ops.co.uk. Constructive criticism welcome, flames will be used to melt chocolate, and we all know what I'll do with that :)

Disclaimers: They belong to Brain Clements and David Wickes Productions. They don't belong to me - if they did we all know what they'd be doing. I don't make any money from this. I have nothing but my own warped imagination and therefore I'm not worth suing. :)

Notes: Many thanks to my excellent beta Lou, for the eagle eyed spotting of typos.


...We'll Call You

By Alyse

Bring... bring...

The harsh tones of the phone dragged Sam Curtis out of the very pleasant dream he'd been having. He couldn't remember the exact details as he groggily reached towards the shrill phone, but it had something to do with being warm and comfortable and being with Chris.

Chris, who was currently three thousand, six hundred and seventy-four miles away.

He stifled a sigh and wiped at sleepy eyes as he brought the receiver up to his ear, answering it automatically in a voice made hoarse by lack of sleep.

"Three-seven."

"What are you wearing now?"

"Chris," he muttered, irritated, "do you know what bloody time it is?"

There was a slight pause as Chris appeared to consider that, and then his voice came back much too bright and breezy for this godforsaken early hour. "Twenty-one forty-five."

It was too early for this and his brain wasn't working. He flicked the light on, squinting his eyes against the harsh glow, and sat up. "In English, Chris. Not all of us have the advantage of military training."

"Okay, for the sake of the anal of us among the audience, nine forty-five." Chris paused for a beat before adding helpfully, "P.m."

Sam sighed. "In Washington, Chris. Do you know what time it is in London?"

"Course I do!"

He sighed again. "And?"

There was another slight pause and then Chris laughed. "Jeez, you're grumpy tonight. Never have been when I've woken you up before."

He didn't point out that when Chris had woken him up before now it was by shaking him, which meant that Chris was physically there with him. Which usually led to some... interesting incentives for waking up. Instead he apologised for his bad mood, concluding, "Not been getting much sleep, but I'm awake now."

"Good," Chris answered, not sounding at all put out by his Oscar the Grouch impression. He sat up straighter, pooling the covers around his waist and settled back to listen, still yawning, as Chris filled him in on all of the things he hadn't learnt that day.

"Everything okay?" he asked when his partner paused for breath.

"Sure. Fine."

"It's just that, while I'm grateful that you felt the need to phone me, I'm wondering why you felt the need to phone me at two o'clock in the morning."

"Two forty-five," Chris corrected him, seemingly automatically.

"Chris..." he growled warningly, his irritation at being woken so abruptly not completely abated.

"I just... I haven't spoken to you all day and... I missed you," his partner completed in a rush.

The remainder of his irritation evaporated. "I know," he admitted. "I miss you too, but tomorrow's the last day, right?"

"Right."

"So tomorrow afternoon you'll fly home and I'll pick you up at the airport early Saturday morning, right?"

"You pissed 'cause I woke you up?"

"No, Chris," he sighed. "I'm not annoyed. I'm trying to be logical, but not doing a very good job at it because you just woke me up." He smiled then, adding, "And for the record, in case you didn't hear it the first time, I miss you too." He glanced to his side, where the bed was empty and where, in spite of that, he hadn't trespassed during the night, too used to another form being in that space. "A lot."

"I heard it," Chris interjected softly. "Only twenty-four hours, right?"

"About that, yes. Bit more maybe. Thirty I think."

"Still needed to hear your voice, buddy."

He smiled again, feeling a flood of warmth. "Feeling's mutual."

"Yeah." Again it was a soft exhalation that had him settling back down onto the bed, just listening to the soft sounds of Chris' breathing over the phone and being strangely comforted by them. An equally soft chuckle warned him that his occasionally quirky partner was up to something.

"So..." The long drawn out word was full of amusement. "What are you wearing?"

"Anyone tell you that you have a one track mind, Keel?"

"You know you're getting repetitive in your old age, Curtis?"

He snorted, his own amusement at the joshing coming through in the sound. "For your information, Chris, I'm wearing a t-shirt and boxers. Sorry if that ruins any fantasies."

"Nope." His partner sounded a little smug, and that put him on his guard slightly. "Should I let you get back to sleep?"

"No." Now that there was an opportunity to go back to sleep he wanted more than anything to be able to listen to the sound of his lover's voice. "I'm awake now. Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything."

"Anything?" That slightly smug note was back in his lover's voice and he couldn't help but wonder what the American was planning. "Sure about that?"

It sounded vaguely like a challenge, and while perhaps not quite as obvious as his partner about it he'd never been one to back away from a challenge. "I'm sure, Chris. If I can survive you here I'm sure I can survive you over the phone."

Now there was laughter clear in his lover's voice. "And if I make you pissed you can always hang up on me?"

"Something like that."

"I'll have to make sure I don't make you pissed then, won't I?" Chris was chuckling openly now and the banter fuelled that warm glow inside, ridiculous as it was he reminded himself. And then his partner lowered his voice, and confirmed every one of his suspicions.

"I've been thinking..."

"About?" As if he didn't know.

"The other night."

"Would you care to be more specific?"

He heard Chris' disgruntled snort and smothered a grin, able to visualise his partner's expression with an ease born of familiarity. "You're going to make me work for this, aren't you, Curtis?"

He made his voice totally reasonable and logical, knowing that it would only piss his partner off more. Chris was incredibly inventive when he was irritated - as various law enforcement agents had discovered to their cost. He was quite looking forward to that inventiveness being exercised for his benefit, as it were. "Well, they do say, Chris, that anything in life worth having is worth working for."

"And you think you're worth working for?" The question was blunt but he knew his lover too well and was too secure of Chris' feelings for him to be offended by it.

"I believe you think I am."

Chris snorted. "Yeah, Sam. Deluded as I am, I do actually think that. Okay," he dragged the word out, "the other night, when we had a mutual jerk-off session over the phone. That specific enough for ya?"

He put his hand over the mouthpiece so that Chris couldn't hear him laugh, and then, once he was in control again, injected just the slightest tone of disappointment into his voice as he replied, "Specific enough, if a bit crude." He broke off to sigh dramatically. "And there I was, thinking that you were the great romantic love of my life as well. How we have our illusions shattered."

He couldn't quite keep the amusement out of his voice, and Chris would probably have been perceptive enough to figure out his game even without it.

"You're a bastard, do you know that, Sam?" There was grudging amusement in Chris' voice too.

"Yeah. But I'm your bastard."

"You just keep remembering that."

"Oh, believe me I do," he laughed.

"This is for waking you up for sex at three a.m., isn't it?"

"This is for waking me up at three a.m. for phone sex," he corrected. "I'd have no objection if you were really here."

Chris sighed. "Listen, I should just go. Let you get some sleep."

"No." The word was torn out of his throat as he shot upright. "I'm just teasing, Chris." His voice was perfectly serious, worried that he'd gone too far in pushing his lover.

There was a long pause before Chris finally spoke.

"Gotcha!"

"Bastard!"

"Makes two of us, Sammy." That damnable smug note was back in his lover's voice.

"Perfectly matched?" he asked with grudging admiration.

"Oh..." Chris' voice dropped to something resembling a purr. "I'd say we were definitely perfectly matched."

The tone, and the words, sent a shiver through him, and he lay back down on the bed, one hand behind his head, relaxing as he let Chris' voice wash over him.

"Care to elaborate?"

"It was kinda hot, Sam."

"It was very kinda hot," he corrected, earning another chuckle from Chris, low and sexy this time.

"Very, very hot."

"Uh huh. And?"

Another chuckle from the American. "Well, I was kinda thinking I wouldn't be averse to repeating it."

"You wouldn't?"

"No. Hence the phone call."

"Ah," Sam grinned. "The light dawns." His hand slipped out from underneath his head and came to rest on his chest, stroking lightly as he anticipated what Chris would come up with next.

"So..."

"So...?"

Another low chuckle from Chris. "You're really going to make me work for it, aren't you, Sam?"

"I thought we both would," he murmured back, slowing the tempo of his hand moving over his chest, drawing it out.

"You want to know what I was thinking?"

"Yes." He drew the word out in a long, seductive hiss.

"I was thinking that the other night I was so... involved in what you were doing to me, I kinda lost track of what I was doing to you. You know?"

He knew. He'd found it difficult himself at first to divorce himself sufficiently from his own desire to concentrate on Chris'. However, once he'd realised that it was simply a case of outlining the images he had running in his own head to Chris, it became as easy as breathing, as easy as most things between them. Perhaps it was because of the distance between them that he'd found it strangely painless to talk his way through a fantasy. Pedestrian though it might have seemed, it had been given an erotic relevance simply because they couldn't see each other and were reliant upon tactile memory and imagination.

As they were now.

"Tell me what you want to do to me," he demanded softly, the command losing none of its power no matter how quietly stated.

He was rewarded with another of those low and throaty laughs that Chris seemed to be specialising in and it didn't fail to send a shiver through him this time either. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"What are you wearing?"

The answer came back promptly. "Black sweater, blue jeans." Chris paused for a beat before adding, "Nothing else."

"Nothing?"

He could almost see the grin on Chris' face as his lover explained, "I went commando today."

His breath caught in his throat as the admission sent a tendril of heat snaking down to his groin, starting a blaze there. He tried, however, to keep his voice cool as he asked, "Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah." Chris' tone could only be described as purring, his partner obviously enjoying the power he now had over Sam. "Thought of you all day too. Want you."

"Got me."

The purr deepened. "Not yet."

He sighed, stretching out on the bed and simply enjoying the moment. The heat was building slowly between them and he savoured it, loving the slow cadence of the seduction Chris was creating. "Tell me," he requested again. "Tell me what you've been thinking."

Chris lowered his voice so that it was barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you lying in your bed."

"Naked?"

"Yes. Naked. Waiting for me. Are you waiting for me?"

"Yes..." he breathed, bracing the phone against his neck as he started to pull his t-shirt over his head.

"Getting naked?" Chris asked him. There was a note of amusement in his voice that had Sam pausing uncertainly in the act of undressing.

"Erm... yes?"

"Good," Chris breathed. "When you're naked I want you to lie back down on the bed, okay?"

"Okay." It came out a little more breathless than he would have liked, and he tried very hard to regain his cool. "Now what?"

Chris let out a soft sigh of his own. "You're beautiful, do you know that? I can see you there, lying on your back, your skin pale against the dark sheets and your eyes shining. I can see you clearly, and oh God you make me hot when you look like that."

He could feel a slow flush creeping over his skin at Chris' words, both at the images they invoked and the words themselves. He wasn't quite comfortable with being described as beautiful, although he easily could, and had, used the word to describe his partner. Chris was beautiful, he was just... Sam. Good looking, he knew, but for him the word 'beauty' was perfectly matched to his lover's form, not his.

But he was beginning to realise that maybe Chris felt the same.

He cleared his throat of the lump that was forming there, dropping his voice to a low, seductive whisper. "So you're hot?"

Chris let out a sigh, echoing through the telephone line. "Oh yeah."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Touch yourself."

His breath caught in his throat. "Where?"

"Take your finger," Chris breathed, "run it over your bottom lip. Imagine it's me."

"Okay," he said softly, carrying out Chris' instructions exactly.

"Shhhh," his partner breathed again. "Don't talk, babe. Just listen. Okay?"

"Yes..."

"I love your mouth too," Chris continued, seemingly lost in his own imagination. "I love kissing it, feeling it on my skin. I love the way that you taste when I kiss you, all hot and warm and sexy, the way that your lips are all swollen when I stop." He paused, seemingly to give this time to sink in and then dropped his voice lower. "Put your finger in your mouth, Sam. Suck on it. Pretend that's me too."

He let out an involuntary moan, listening to Chris' words washing over him. "I love your mouth there too, the way you can take me over the edge with just a touch. Oh god, you make me so fucking hot sometimes."

Hot was a concept he could understand since Chris' words were having exactly that effect on him. He was achingly hard, desperate for the man's touch, almost writhing on the bed, caught up as he was in the other man's fantasy.

"I love kissing you too," Chris was saying, the words dropping from lips nearly four thousand miles away. "Love the taste of your skin, the smell of you. Love the way you feel under my tongue. Love the tang of you when I taste you there, the way your come tastes. The way your hairs tickle my nose when I go down on you." He chuckled lightly, and Sam felt his own mouth curl up around the finger he was still sucking on gently.

Chris let out a heavy sigh. "Wish I was there to taste you now, lover. Bring you over the edge with my mouth, make you come. And then I'd take you."

"In front of the mirror, right?" he asked breathlessly, Chris' admonition not to speak forgotten in the heat that Chris' words were generating.

His lover's voice dropped to a wolfish growl. "Oh yes."

"Want you to take me," he gasped out, to be rewarded with another chuckle, this one speaking of heat and desire and possession.

"Patience," Chris growled. "Is your finger still wet?"

"Yes."

"Good." There was definitely a note of possession in Chris' voice now, a dominant edge that merely increased the sensations that Sam was drowning in. "Take your finger. Move it down your chest. You doing that, Sam?"

"Yes..."

"Good. I want you to circle your nipple with it."

"Which one?"

"Doesn't matter. Either. Just move it round but don't touch it yet. You doing that, Sam?"

"Yes..."

"Pinch it."

He did, the sharp pain sending shards of pleasure through him, forcing another moan out of him to echo down the telephone line. It drew another low, sexy chuckle from his lover.

"Like that, don't you, Sammy?"

"Oh god, yes."

"Good. Do it again, and this time it's my mouth. Can you feel that, Sam?"

He wet his fingers again and moved to comply with Chris' instructions, the damp saliva almost mimicking his lover's mouth. Almost. He closed his eyes tightly, summoning up the memory of Chris' touch, Chris' mouth, the way that his lover did, indeed, nip his skin to increase his pleasure.

Chris continued on, obviously lost in the images in his own head. "Move your hand lower, Sam, lower. Slide it over your stomach, but keep it away from your cock."

He groaned but once again obeyed, no matter how much his demanding erection begged for the feel of a hand. He brought his fingers to rest just above his pubic bone, slicking them lightly across his sweaty skin but progressing no further, waiting for Chris' okay.

"Slide your legs apart, lover, like you're waiting for me to fuck you." The words were coarse but they only served to increase his level of arousal. "And I am going to fuck you, Sam. Fuck you so hard you can't see straight. Ram myself into you so hard you won't be able to sit down tomorrow. Every time you try, every time you bend over, you're going to remember me taking you. Owning you. Won't you?"

"Oh yes," he moaned, his hand sliding between his parted thighs to cup his throbbing, tight balls, rolling them in his hands, desperate for relief from the hunger that was devouring him whole.

"You want me, Sam?" Chris' voice had dropped to that purr again.

"Oh yes..."

"Want me inside you? Stretching you? Filling you?"

"Oh fuck, yes..."

"I'm going to fuck you, Sam," his lover growled.

Reality reared its ugly head. "How?" he snapped a little waspishly. "You're four thousand miles away."

It probably wasn't fair of him, since Chris had to be as frustrated by their separation as he was, but damn it, he was horny as hell! He wanted Chris, wanted him now and he was wound up beyond endurance with no sign of relief. He knew from experience that any release brought about by his own hand was unlikely to be satisfying when what he wanted, what he really wanted and needed, was the feel of Chris in him.

His bad mood didn't seem to offend his partner, Chris chuckling lightly over the telephone line. "I think you're forgetting something," his infuriating lover laughed.

"What?" he groused.

Chris chuckled again. "Happy birthday, Sam."

The words sank into his lust-addled brain and his eyes were drawn to the bedside table where Chris' birthday present had resided since that memorable night. He couldn't.

Could he?

"You want me to...?" he asked a little uncertainly.

"Oh yes," his lover sighed, sounding as lustful as he felt. "I want you to, and I want you to tell me everything you do, how it feels so that I can imagine I'm there with you, watching you do it."

Once again, Chris' words sent a flood of heat through him, turning his exposed skin a dusky pink with mingled arousal and embarrassment. Almost without thinking, he reached into the drawer and retrieved the toy and the small tube of lubricant from its depths. He turned the toy over and over in his hand, once again marvelling at how lifelike it was, tracing the outline of one vein with a fingernail, forgetting all about his lover at the other end of a silent telephone line until Chris' voice drew him back to the present.

"Sam? Still there?"

"Yes," he breathed, before clearing his throat and trying again. "Just trying to work out logistics in my head."

Chris laughed again before saying, in a low, seductive whisper, "Tell me."

"Erm..." He wasn't quite sure how to explain. "I think I might have to put you on speakerphone for this."

That cracked his partner up, Chris' gasps of laughter bouncing across the Atlantic. Sam listened to him good-naturedly, still turning the toy over in his hand while the heat continued to curl in his belly. Finally Chris calmed down, adding, his voice still unsteady with laughter although desire was there too, "Oh baby, I wish I was there with you to help."

"Chris, if you were here with me I wouldn't need your help. You'd have me on my hands and knees by now."

"True," the American admitted. "You gonna...?"

It was his own turn for an admission, the idea that Chris had suggested both intriguing and arousing. "Yes."

"Put me on speakerphone then," Chris instructed softly. "And tell me everything you're doing."

He didn't hesitate, because hesitation would only give him time to rethink this, let his embarrassment rise up and stop him from doing something his lover wanted, something that he, if he was honest enough to admit it to himself, wanted too. So instead he did as requested, placing the phone back in its cradle and scooping up the tube of lubricant from its resting place on the bed. He flicked the small tube open with one fingernail and squeezed some of the contents onto his fingers, rising up onto his knees and reaching behind himself to slide his now slick digits into the waiting crevasse.

"I'm preparing myself," he told Chris breathlessly.

"Tell me," his lover growled, that erotic note of domination in his voice. "Tell me everything, Sam."

Helpless to resist, he did as instructed. "I'm sliding... my fingers... oh god... into my body..."

"Are you imagining it's me?"

"Yes," he breathed again, closing his eyes and picturing just that, Chris' long and agile fingers sliding into his willing body. His probing digits brushed against the sensitive gland buried deeply in his flesh and he gasped as a surge of pleasure coursed through him, finding its end in his dancing cock.

"Oh god," he gasped out.

"Tell me."

He shook and found his voice. "You touched me there, Chris, and oh god your fingers feel so good," he almost sobbed. He could hear a low growl issue from his lover's throat, the sound so familiar from their lovemaking that he could almost feel Chris in the room with him. He continued to prepare himself, letting his fingers dance over that oh-so-sensitive spot, gasps and moans spilling from his lips, mingled in with brief words and phrases to let Chris know what he was doing, what he was feeling. Finally he could take no more, needing something bigger, something more familiar to fill the aching void inside him. He reached for the discarded toy, coating it with lubricant with shaking fingers, letting them slide over the familiar form as though it was the real thing he held in his hand, as though touching this was touching Chris and his lover would be able to feel it.

"I'm touching you," he whispered. "Can you feel it, Chris? I'm slicking you up so that you can slide into me..."

His lover's groan echoed through the room followed by Chris' acknowledgement. "I feel it, Sam. Oh god, I feel it."

He couldn't wait any longer, driven by both his own need and the need evident in his lover's voice. Clasping the faux phallus firmly in one hand, he steadied himself on the bed with the other and once again rose up on his knees, pressing the bulbous head against his slick opening.

"Are you ready, Chris?" he gasped out. "Ready to take me?"

"Christ, yes," his lover growled. "I'm going to take you now, Sam. Can you feel me?"

At Chris' words, he lowered himself gently onto the toy, unable to keep back a moan as it stretched and filled him. "Oh god, Chris!"

"Am I in you?" His lover's voice was harsh with need. "Am I, Sam?"

"Yes," he sobbed, lost in the sensation of his lover - or his lover's stand in - buried deep within him, igniting sparks.

"Where am I?"

He took time to process the question, still lost in the slow-building ecstasy, and then he understood what Chris was asking.

"Behind me."

"Are you on your hands and knees?"

"No."

"Tell me."

Once again that dominant and sexy tone was back in his lover's voice and he was helpless to resist. "On my knees. Upright," he hissed, his body moving slowly up and down on the toy. "You're behind me, buried deep within me."

There was a shuddering sigh from Chris and then the American spoke again, his tone almost awed. "I can feel you around me, Sam. Smell you even, breathe in the scent of your skin. God, you're so hot, so tight. Can you feel me there behind you, Sam?"

He could. Lost in his own imaginings, reinforced by Chris' words, he could almost feel his lover's body heat against his back, imagine that it was Chris in him, Chris' hand snaking around his body to grasp his cock and pump it steadily instead of his own hand. He found a rhythm and kept it, moving slowly up and down on the faux phallus, inch by inch, feeling it slide in and out of his body much as his lover did. Balanced as he was on his knees, with one hand steadying the toy while his other caressed his erection, he couldn't match the driving rhythm that Chris preferred when he possessed him and so he pictured the last time they'd made love slowly, savouring each thrust of Chris into his body, letting the crescendo build gradually instead of striving for it.

Chris was talking to him, telling him what he was doing to him, telling him how he made Chris feel, how much Chris loved being buried inside him and he lost himself in the words, unable to reciprocate, the feelings too intense, too out of control for him to find his own voice, only moans and sighs escaping him now.

It seemed to be enough, the cadence of Chris' voice speeding up, the tone becoming harsher the more aroused the American became. It created a feedback loop, Chris' words feeding his desire and his increasingly vocal appreciation feeding Chris'. He was so close, the familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach and tightness of his balls signalling the onset of orgasm. And then he was coming, yelling loudly, not caring who heard, not caring if it was only the neighbours or Chris three thousand, six hundred and seventy-four miles away. The creamy liquid of his climax spilled over his hand, coating his twitching abdomen as his body jerked and shook with the force of his orgasm. He dimly heard Chris' yell as his lover also lost the fight, spiralling over to join him in bliss as he slumped, exhausted, sweaty and sticky, back onto the bed.

It took a long time for his breathing to return to normal and until it did he just lay there, basking in the aftermath, listening to Chris' equally ragged breathing over the speaker and finding some comfort in that.

"Sam?" Chris said eventually, his voice sounding a little hoarse from the violence of his cries.

"Yeah?" His voice wasn't much better.

"That was hot."

"Yeah."

A deep chuckling sigh from Chris. "Want to do it again sometime?"

He chuckled. "Told you. Rather have the real thing."

"In the absence of the real thing?"

"Yeah."

"Miss you."

"Miss you too."

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah."

"Thirty hours right?"

"Something like that."

"Good." Another chuckle from Chris and then his lover was adding, "Still gonna take you in front of that mirror, Curtis."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"Good. I love you."

"You too."

"Get some sleep."

He yawned, suddenly feeling exhaustion crashing over him as though Chris' words had reminded his body of the lateness of the hour. "Will do. G'night."

"Sam?" His lover's voice stopped him in the act of cutting of the call.

"Yeah?"

"Very, very hot."

He laughed, suddenly able to visualise Chris' face very clearly in his mind's eye, see the beaming grin and the dimples. "Yeah, it was."

"See you in thirty hours, babe."

His lover hung up and Sam stared sleepily around the room, his eyes settling on the mirror in the corner. He smiled.

Somehow the bed didn't seem quite so empty now.

The End


List Archive Page           Contents Page