Rusty thought about giving Cross a strip show, but Digger might come back any time. Guaranteed, nothing would stopCross colder than Digger shoving at Rusty’s latched door. “I get naked. You could get naked too, if you wanted.” He watched closely as Cross tilted his head. Fuck, this was like playing Clue. Or Magic Eight-ball.“Reply hazy, try again.”“Or you could just sit there fully dressed and watch me. That’s hot too.”
“It is?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Okay. Let’s do it that way.”
“Cool. You relax, put your phone somewhere I can see more than your face. Maybe stretch out on the bed.”
“Okay.” The image swooped around a bit, and then Rusty got an angled view of Cross lying propped up on his pillows, still in his crisp white shirt but with the top two buttons undone. The picture cut off around Cross’s waist, which was a shame, but it might be intentional. Rusty decided not to get greedy.
Well, not too greedy. “Can you roll up your sleeves? Show me some forearms.”
“Forearms?”
“I’m a slut for great arms, and yours are excellent.”
Cross chuckled, which was a good sign, and took out his cufflinks, rolling his shirtsleeves to the elbows.
“Mm, yeah!” Rusty exaggerated. “Arms!”
That got him a real laugh. “You’re still dressed.”
“Not for long.” Rusty set the phone down on the bed, stood, and peeled off his T-shirt, sweats, and boxer-briefs. The waistband had some frayed bits, so probably just as well he’d decided against showing Cross the striptease. He kicked his clothes aside, lay back down, and fiddled with setting up thephone on a folded pillow. “How’s that? Can you see the good bits?”
“Tilt it up some. I want to see your face.”
“As well as my dick or instead?” Was Cross not into this?
“Yes, absolutely. Both.”
“Got it.” He’d have said the same. He wanted to see Cross’s expressions most of all.
Rusty adjusted the phone a couple of times till Cross said, “There. Face and dick.”
“Okay. So.” He stroked his length a couple of times, thinking. His cock had been soft when he stripped, but it was getting interested now. He’d never done anything like this before, either. He slid one knee out and up to put himself more on display and thumbed across his slit. Not wet yet, but his dick hardened further. “Do you think of me when you jerk off? I think of you. I imagine this is your hand, every fucking night.”
“I don’t, um, jerk off much.”
Rusty paused his lazy stroking. “But you do sometimes?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“What do you picture when you do it? Do you think about my hand? My mouth?”My ass?But that would clearly be one question too far.
“It’s mostly about touch, for me. Like, what feels good. I don’t think about it, I just do it.”
“That works.” Rusty slid his hand lower, dipping between his thighs. “How do you like it? Soft and slow? Hard and fast?” He was fully erect now as his thumb brushed the underside of his shaft, his fingers trailing over his sac.
“Fast, I guess.” Cross ran his tongue over his lips. His eyes seemed fixed on his screen. “You’re bigger than me.”
“I’m, like, eight inches taller than you. Not a surprise.” Rusty returned to fisting up and down his cock. The friction was a bit dry, but getting up to dig out lube from his bag might wreck the moment. He kept his touch light. “You said fast? Like this?” He sped up his strokes, watching Cross staring, his lips parted.
A twist of Rusty’s hand over the head got him some precum to slick his way. “Mm. Yeah.” He moaned softly, only a slight exaggeration for Cross’s benefit. “Feels good.”
“Yeah. That’s… I do it like that.” Cross cleared his throat. “Sometimes I play with my balls.”
“Tell me to do that.”
