Title: Service Call
Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Summary: Arthur provides a welcome distraction in the form of a phone call.
It’s one of those rare occasions where there is actually enough money in the trip budget for two rooms and for once, Martin isn’t all that pleased about it. He sits on his bed in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, trying and failing to concentrate on his book. If Douglas was here, he’d have witty remarks or might even have fixed the TV by now, but he was out somewhere having fun and would probably be accompanied by a stewardess or six on his return.
To his surprise, his phone rings. The ringing itself isn’t all that odd given that it’s the number on his man-with-a-van advertisement, but with the time difference it’s the middle of the night back home. This makes it even more surprising when he sees that the screen reads Arthur.
“Arthur? What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep, Skip.”
“Oh. Any particular reason?”
“Well, yes. Sort of.”
“And are you going to tell me? Or have you just phoned to be terrible at being secretive and enigmatic?”
A pause. When Arthur speaks again, his tone is darker, clouded with something indiscernible. “Yes, you see, the thing is, Skip... I want to be inside you.”
Martin almost chokes on nothing. “Wh-what?!” It’s a mistake, he’s misheard, that’s the only explanation. Arthur would never say something that would make all the blood rush to Martin’s groin. Not intentionally, anyway – he frequently said and did things that produced that effect by accident.
There’s a hint of breathlessness this time. “Well, it’s your arse, Skip. It’s so round and firm and I bet it’d be so tight around my cock.”
Not misheard, then. Blood still rushing south and Arthur has a sex voice. If that isn’t permission, nothing is, so Martin pushes his pyjamas down enough to take hold of his cock. “O-oh?” he manages as he starts to move his hand. It’s meant to be a question to make Arthur explain further but it just sounds like a slightly surprised expression of pleasure.
“I mean, I wouldn’t just start there. That wouldn’t be fun at all. No, I’d start with you lying on your back. You’d just be reading or something but I’d kiss that bit just above your waistband and you’d be too distracted to read any more.”
Martin’s hand moves in slow, careful strokes as Arthur continues. “I’d pull your trousers down a bit, and your underwear, and I’d take you in my hand at first.”
“ I’d lean down and take just the head into my mouth. I’d lick and suck and-“ his breath hitches “and I’d pull ever so gently on your foreskin, just to tease you.”
Martin is quite certain his brain has completely malfunctioned now. Arthur’s voice does unspeakable things to him when he’s talking about perfectly innocent subjects so this is beyond what he can reasonably cope with. His hand moves faster now, only slowing occasionally to squeeze at the top of a stroke.
“Then I’d prepare you with my fingers – just a bit, just enough – and I’d mean to go slowly but I’d push in fast and-“ Martin’s barely-stifled groan causes Arthur to pause. “You can’t come until I say you can, okay?”
“O-okay.” It’s tough, but somehow the command is enough for Martin to calm himself down a little. He slows his hand down, just to be on the safe side.
“I’d hold your hips tightly and fuck you hard. I’d dig my fingers in and find just the right angle to make you scream.” Arthur’s breathing sounds ragged. It’s hard to make out over the phone, but Martin is sure can hear the slippery sound of Arthur’s hand moving just as quickly as his own had been before.
“A-Arthur, please...” he manages to force out, almost a whine.
“Harder and harder until you were begging for me to finish you off with my hand.”
Martin keens, so desperately close and hanging precariously over the edge. “Please, I need- I can’t-“
“Not yet. I haven’t finished talking.” Clipped, barely restrained, probably very close himself.
Martin grips the base of his cock firmly, precome dripping down onto his hand as he uses every ounce of strength to hold back.
“Right before I was about to come, I’d pull out so I could watch it spill out across your arse and thighs and-“
It trails off into a long moan and Martin gives up holding back, moving his hand like his life depends upon it for just a few more seconds until he comes messily all over his hand and stomach. If the sound Arthur made is anything to go by, he’s in exactly the same position now.
He takes a few moments to compose himself, and then, “Arthur, that was-“
Martin laughs. “Well, I was going to use a stronger word but okay – brilliant.”
“There isn’t a stronger word than brilliant, Skip!”
“No, I don’t suppose there is. You tell a good story, Arthur.”
“Who said anything about a story, Skip? I was just letting you know what we’re going to do when you get back! Anyway, must be off, it’s awfully late here. Goodnight!”
With that, he’s gone. As he cleans himself up, Martin tries not to think about what Arthur has just said. It wouldn’t do to get hard again now, not without an enthusiastic and surprisingly experienced partner to deal with it for him. No, he’ll leave that until they get back tomorrow, at which point he imagines he’ll be so full of pent-up anticipation that he may well have to jump Arthur in the hallway at least twice before they make it to his room.