Work Header

Call Me, Call Me, Anytime

Work Text:

2D hurts.
Being on tour is good, most of the time. He loves performing, to step out of his awkward shell and show the world what he could do. Meeting fans is good, too, even if sometimes they get a little… forward. It’s nice to feel attractive in the eyes of others now that he's hit 40, but still. Doesn't the world know he's got someone now?
That’s what hurts. You’re not on tour and he misses you. Sure, with technology what it is nowadays, he can talk to you pretty much all day every day through texts, but still. It isn't the same. He misses laying his head in your lap and squeezing you in tight hugs and… more.
He shivers just a little in the back of the car Murdoc’s got for the night, glad for Noodle’s animated story-telling next to him that everyone else is paying attention to.
The buzz of his phone in his pocket jolts him out of his daze, and he thumbs it open to read your text.
'miss u bluberry. ur bed is lonely when ur away.’
Another moment, and a picture of you wearing one of 2D’s overly large sweaters and a pair of cotton panties pops up in his messages. The way your bare legs are tangled up in his blue sheets makes him blush before swiping out a reply.
‘hotel beds arent as comfortable as ur lap luv’
Pressing send and locking his phone, he realizes that the car’s reached the hotel, with everyone already beginning to step out. His foot catches the curb and he almost trips, pulling the slouchy wool beanie he wears down over his immediately recognizable blue hair to keep the crowd of people outside the hotel from recognizing him.
Murdoc and Noodle’s rooms are on either side of his, and Noodle gives him a good night hug before disappearing in for the night. His room is comfortable, if bland. The walls are white and the furniture is sleek and and black and modern, plush king-sized bed in the up against one wall. 2D sinks down onto the mattress, not even bothering to kick off his boots, just barely shrugging out of his jacket before he hits the soft comforter. Another buzz from his phone.
'r u in safe for the night??’ Your text makes him smile, teeth poking between his front teeth’s gap.
‘yea luv just reached my hotel room. still in my bed?’
‘every night since u left, bluberry’
2D sighs, reaching down and popping his shoes and socks off, tossing them towards the door, followed by his shirt over the side of the bed.
‘still in my shirt?’ he sends.
‘maybe. would u rather I wasnt?’
Oh. So that's how this night was going to go. A few finger taps later, and his phone is ringing your number.
“Hey there, stranger.” Your voice makes 2D relax into the bed, immediate temporary relief from how badly he misses you.
“Not that strange. Only been two monf’s.” It’s times like this he hates his lisp, the space where his teeth used to be making it nearly impossible to sound any kind of sexy.
“Too long. I’m going through you-withdrawal.” you say, and he goes red at your tone, dripping with innuendo. “How am I supposed to take care of myself when I got so used to you doing such a good job of it?”
“Aw, am I gonna come back to a pitcher of my face taped to a teddy bear for you to kiss?”
Your laugh is like music to his ears.
“Maybe if you get back soon you won't. Or maybe if you give me something to… tide me over?” you say.
“What do you, uh… what d’you have in mind?” 2D can hear you shift on the end of the line, his sheets rustling around you.
“Talk to me, Dee,” you purr, and his breath hitches.
“I-I, uh, I’m not… I’ve never done this before, what if I’m no good?” he says, even though his hand has already gone to his belt buckle, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable.
“Don't you know what you want to do to me?” you ask. “I’ve been thinking of you a lot during the nights you've been gone, haven't you been thinking of me?”
“I always think of you, love. Every night when I’m up on stage and every night when I'm in bed afterwards.” 2D unbuckles his belt and fumbles with the button of his jeans. “I… miss curlin’ up behind you ‘nd feelin’ you grind against me.” He can feel his face heat up at his own words, and lets out a soft groan as he palms himself.
“Mm, I love teasing you like that. Feeling your dick rub up against my ass when you get hard for me.” you say, voice coming out a little breathless, as if you're already touching yourself.
“You’re awful rude, love.” he says, finally fumbling himself out of his boxers. “M-maybe I should, uh, punish you when I get home. Make you wait for me.”
“Like you could keep your hands off of me.”
“Maybe I've been hidin’ a wealf’ of self control and p-patience from you. Maybe I'm humorin’ you when I just… let you have my cock.” Again, 2D curses his voice for sounding, to his ears, too dorky.
You seem to be enjoying it, though.
“Keep talking like that, baby.” you say, and the slight rasp in your voice makes him squeeze his dick tighter, rhythm stuttering as he pumps into his fist.
“You like when I talk about my dick?”
“So much,” you gasp.
“Maybe I should send a picture. I, uh, is that somefin’ that you want? Maybe?”
He lets out a pleased huff, pulling the phone away for a moment to snap a picture of his dick, straining up towards his stomach with his long fingers still curled around the base. Another moment after sending, he hears you make that noise he loves so much, a sweet little moan just for him, right up against his ear.
“I miss you so much, I want you back already, Dee,” you say breathlessly, and he can hear a little muffled moan against what he assumes is a pillow. “Fingers not good enough… Need you.”
He squeezes himself again with the image of you finger fucking yourself in his bed, taking a moment to spit into his palm and replace his slick hand over his hot, throbbing need. “You should’ve come with me,” he manages. “Could've had you every night before the stage,”
“Since when are you taking pages out of Murdoc’s book?” Your voice is a half laugh.
“Since I got someone worth bangin’ all over the world,” he says, and at this point he's surprising himself with how easy the words are coming to him as he pleasures himself. The sweet noise you make on the other end makes him speed up. “I’m gonna make up for all this lost time when I get home, you watch. Y-you better start getting ready now. You’re gonna be sore for a week. Won't be able to leave my bed.”
“Oh, Dee,”
“Tha’s right, love, keep touchin’ yourself for me.” he says, and his voice is coming out a lower pitch now, his head lolled to the side as he stops attempting to hold back. “Lemme hear you while I come, 's been too long. Miss watchin’ those lovely eyes roll back.”
He groans again and finally spills over his fist while listening to your little gasps and moans. “You’ve made me a mess,” he says after a moment of catching his breath. “If I were there we wouldn't have to worry about that, would we? Would’ve just filled you up.”
“D-Dee, I’m gonna, oh, can I come?”
2D grins, pleased that you asked.
“Do it, come for me, love. Please.”
He thinks the ‘please’ is what sets you over the edge as he listens to you, muscle memory kicking in as he digs his nails into his own knee like he would usually do with your hip as you climaxed around him at home. If he weren't so tired, and about 15 years younger, hearing you finish so prettily would've gotten him hard again in no time.
“You're so good for me,” he sighs, finally reaching to shove his jeans and underwear all the way off, taking a minute to wipe the mess on his hands into the cotton of his boxers. “Why didn't we do this sooner?”
You giggle through the phone, making him smile again.
“I dunno, but maybe we should more often if you're going to leave me home alone for so long.”
“If you're gonna put on shows like that for me when I leave, you might convince me to extend a tour.”
“No! Stuart, you had better come back as soon as that last show ends, or I am going to… to… I don't know! But it'll be something!’
2D can feel his eyelids getting heavier as he nestles down into the pillows and blankets of the bed, and your voice is lulling him further.
“Love, I hate to end your thoughts of tour hate, but I’m feelin’ myself drift off. I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?”
“You’d better.” Your fake indignance melts away after a moment, softening into the voice he hears in his dreams. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, babe. Tomorrow.”
He listens to you breathe a moment longer before pressing the 'end call’ button.