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The lady is nice enough about it. But in some ways that makes it worse, that she recommends a pill and a cream and even suggests she could use one of her toys on him. She pulls out a wand from her purse and tries to explain to Doug that if she holds it just right under the tip of his cock, the vibrations will help him get it up and keep it there. She tries to explain it to Doug like he doesn’t know and hasn’t tried.
She suggests they masturbate on opposite sides of the couch. She even suggests they turn on a porno. Doug is starting to feel like he’s in a nightmare.
She asks to stay the night at least, to keep him company, to cuddle in bed. A pit grows in Doug’s stomach because it almost sounds like a wonderful break in his routine but he’s tired, he’s tired, he’s tired of strangers.
Doug sends her off with the last of his beer and a deep, generous kiss by way of apology. She leaves him with her phone number by way of forgiveness.
Then, Doug shuts and locks his door, leans against it, and wipes his mouth. He breathes slowly through his nose, looking at his empty, dimly lit apartment. Doug vaguely muses that he must have given her the last of his booze as self-flagellation.
He finds his way to the couch and tells himself he’s thinking about watching a movie. He idly sticks his hand in his boxers just to check in. After only a few minutes of lightly touching himself, just building up some warmth, the blood flow redirects to his groin and his dick starts stiffening exactly as it’s supposed to. Which is very good because Doug really needs this tonight. He could just rub one out and go to bed.
He could call her back.
He calls Mark, who picks up after one ring.
“Hello…?”
“Trouble sleeping?”
“Hi, Doug,” Mark says. “Do you need something?”
“What are you doing right now?” It is Doug’s intention to keep his voice low and sultry, though he knows he usually achieves both qualities whether or not he’s intending to. Doug no longer holds any feelings of pride nor shame about this.
“I’m sitting around,” Mark says, “waiting for something to happen.”
The mental image makes Doug smile. Mark in his sweats, alone in his own bedroom, save for Doug’s voice on the phone.
“Do you wanna…” Doug is still holding his cock, which is half-hard and semi-attentive. He strokes himself gently with his thumb to work up the nerve to proposition Mark. But he can feel himself floundering, and tastes sick in his throat.
“Maybe,” Mark says, so Doug doesn’t have to finish.
Doug hums, and offers nothing more. Mark offers his patience until Doug clears his throat and says, “I think I’m developing some sort of complex.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“Okay.” Mark waits for Doug to elaborate. “Are you… looking for a second opinion?”
Doug sighs through his nose into the receiver. “If you’d be so kind.”
“Well, are you talking something classic, maybe Oedipal, or something more generalized?”
“I’m looking to pathologize some minor erectile dysfunction.”
Mark hums thoughtfully. Doug imagines him nodding, maybe putting his hand on his hip. “Minor dysfunction? So you can’t get hard?”
Doug feels a flush in his face that extends to his ears. “I mean. Not for long, and sometimes not at all. Just had a girl over tonight — not even a twitch.”
“I see,” Mark says. “How long?”
“I don’t know.” Not since Mark stared Doug dead in the eye from the kitchen stool across the room while the blonde Doug met at the bar rode him on his couch until he came. Doug glances at the stool Mark had been perched on and squeezes himself a little firmer on the upstrokes. “Past couple days. I don’t know.”
“Your alcohol intake?” Mark asks, clinical.
“Just one, hour ago. That’s not drinking.”
“No, it’s not,” Mark agrees.
“You?”
“We’re talking about you,” Mark says. Doug hears a rustling sound, like Mark is getting settled. “But no, I haven’t been drinking.”
A pause. Doug thinks about drinking.
“So,” Mark says, “‘not even a twitch.’”
“Not even,” Doug says slowly. “Not until she left.”
“Where are you?”
“My couch.”
“Are you touching yourself?”
Doug inhales. “For a few minutes now.”
“And you’re erect?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, keep doing what you’re doing, and let me know if anything changes.”
Doug wants to tell Mark that this is just stupid — nothing is going to change if he just keeps doing the same thing — but he cannot tell Mark that because technically something has slowly been changing just having the phone in Doug’s other hand and Mark on the other side of the phone.
But this doesn’t work at all if Mark stays quiet.
“What about you?” Doug tries. “Are you?”
“We’re not talking about me.” Mark says it with focus. “Remember, tell me if anything changes.”
“I know.” Doug feels oppositional suddenly. It always blindsides Doug how annoying Mark becomes when he decides to play the attending. Doug’s not sure he likes this game anymore, but tonight, at least, he is not a quitter. “It’s going, um, good.”
“Okay, good. Keep doing it then.”
“Okay.”
There’s a moment of not-quite-silence between them as they wait in the sound of each others’ steady breathing and the hushed buzz of the phone. Doug figures Mark probably can’t hear his masturbating over the line and for now he thinks he’s glad. That’s not what this is about. He’s not sure what this is about. He wishes Mark would stop being so quiet.
“Doug, how’s it going?”
“I don’t know,” Doug snaps. “I don’t know. Good. The same.”
“Okay,” Mark placates. “Can you tell me what you’re doing?”
“Pervert.”
“You called me.”
“Did I.” Doug groans, shuts his eyes and wills himself through Mark’s demands. He has a precise, exact methodology to his masturbation routine, but any words that could help him describe it do not materialize in his vocabulary. “I’m… jerking off. With my hand. Um. Kind of slow.”
“How does it feel?”
Doug frowns. “Normal? You–” He wants to say you know what this feels like but imagining Mark, feeling the way Doug currently feels, sends a hot shiver across his skin. “Fuck, I mean, it’s nice.”
“Could you describe ‘nice’? Just to help me get a better frame of reference.”
“You know, good blood flow, endorphins…” Doug’s breath is growing shallower. His hips have started to slightly rock toward the motions of his hand. “Warm. Electric.”
“Warm,” Mark repeats, his voice gentle. “Electric. That’s good.”
Doug’s mind goes a little buzzy hearing Mark echo these words back to him. He feels his grip grow slicker with precum.
“Okay, yeah,” Doug says. “Yeah, it’s going well.”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay. Doug, try something, twist your hand more at the tip, you know?”
Doug does so, only vaguely irritated that Mark is directing him. “Doing it.”
“Rub your thumb against the tip every so often. That usually works. Is that better?”
Doug lets out an annoyed groan.
“Good. Keep doing that.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Are you approaching climax?”
Not when you put it like that, Doug thinks, but the answer is yes. “Probably.”
“Probably? You know what I mean by climax, right?”
“I’m close, dammit, but you’re—”
“Ruining it?” Mark scoffs. “I’m ruining it? You only got hard in the first place because I started talking you through this.”
Doug snaps his mouth shut.
“That’s the whole reason you called me, Doug. You wanted to hear me talking down to you while you jerked off. You needed me to tell you how to jerk off. You couldn’t just do it yourself. And I bet you tried. Hey. You’re quiet.”
Doug is just about holding his breath. He’s been hoping that Mark had this in him — now he’s not sure if he can handle it.
“Rare for you to be speechless. Almost a shame. I enjoy talking to you like this, Doug.”
“Yeah?” Doug tries not to sound wrecked and fails.
“Yeah,” Mark echoes. “I like listening to your voice. You sound nice.”
“Thanks,” Doug says, though it’s not a very sexy thing to say. “Y…You sound nice too.”
“This isn’t about me,” Mark repeats. “But it’s nice to hear you say it, Doug. You still feeling good? Any changes?”
There is a hot, heavy pressure building deep in Doug’s gut. “Fuck, I’m close.”
“Okay. Stop.”
“Mark!?” Doug exclaims. He doesn’t remove his hand but he does force it to still at the base of his cock.
“Don’t worry,” Mark says. “Just for a moment. Stop touching.”
Doug swallows, and moves his hand away. It feels like pulling a ship’s anchor out of deep water. His reddened, upright cock twitches sadly, searching for stimulation.
“Okay, doc,” Doug spits, “now what.”
“How’s your cock looking?”
Doug feels a shudder run down his spine. “Mark, you dirty son of a bitch.”
“This is important. Does it look healthy? You know, leaking, flushed, engorged?”
Doug is barking out “yes, yes, yes” before Mark even finishes.
“You need to be patient,” Mark says.
“Mark, I might just hang up. I really gotta finish.”
“Really?” Doug can almost hear Mark’s eyebrows raise. “Doug, when was the last time you had an orgasm?”
“Can I just—?”
“Have you come at all since you fucked her in front of me?”
A little tremble runs through Doug’s entire body at the words. He can feel his heartbeat in his dick.
“No,” Doug says in defeat.
“Okay,” Mark sounds pleased. “You can touch yourself again. Start slow. Do you need lube?”
“Don’t think so,” Doug rasps. It feels so good to have his cock in his fist again that he can’t even think about being bothered by light chafing.
“Slow, Doug.”
“I am.”
“Slower.”
Doug groans. “Mark, you’re killin’ me.”
Mark chuckles. “I’m enjoying the sounds you’re making.”
“What sounds,” Doug pants.
“Breathing. Humming. Small noises. Maybe you didn’t know you were making them. Keep your hand slow.”
“Fuck you,” Doug says.
“I know. Doug, I’m glad you called me. You know you can always come to me for help.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Doug says.
“Then stop whining,” Mark orders. Doug sucks in a breath. “Yeah, go faster.”
“Okay.” Doug’s entire body is growing warm. His hips have started chasing the movement of his hand again. “Ah.”
“Good.”
Doug squeezes his eyes shut. “Keep... talking.”
“You’re getting close,” Mark ventures, more declarative than inquisitive. Doug nods automatically. As if Mark can see him. “Okay. You can go faster when you need to. But you should let me tell you when to come.”
“I’ll try,” Doug gasps.
“That’s good,” Mark says. His voice is lower, calmer, warmer, than Doug has ever heard it before. Doug hopes Mark is touching himself too. He wishes Mark had been jerking off while he watched Doug from that kitchen stool. He wishes he could suck Mark’s cock again and bury his face between his legs and feel Mark come down his throat. He wishes Mark would beat the shit out of him. The tip of Doug’s cock is alight with sensation — all rational thought is draining from his mind. Mark keeps talking and Doug strains to catch all of it while he chases release. “Good, Doug. Keep doing that. That’s good. You are… you are something else.”
“I’ve been told.”
“Have you been told what you look like when you come?”
Despite himself, Doug lets out a shaky, disbelieving moan.
“I’m picturing it now,” Mark says. Doug’s hand moves tighter, faster. He feels himself biting back whimpers. “The look on your face while you fucked that woman on your couch. Looking over her shoulder at me. Your eyes. Your sweat. I could have watched you forever.”
“Fuck.”
“I wish I could see you now.” Mark sounds so sweet. Doug feels lightheaded, legs splayed on his couch, slumped back in the cushions, nothing on the TV, nothing on the radio, his cock out of his boxers as he jerks himself off with wild abandon. “You sure have trouble staying quiet.”
Doug tries to warn Mark that he’s close but he only gets out the first sound. He manages to let go of his cock before his orgasm crests although every atom inside him is telling him he’s almost there, keep going. Doug hisses, almost pained. As soon as he’s no longer on the edge of busting, Doug takes his cock in hand again and builds the strokes back up to a steady pace. He’s still not far.
“Did you come?”
“Almost,” Doug grits his teeth. “I didn’t.”
“Doug.” Mark says his name with pride. His voice is soft – soothing, like Doug is his patient, going under. “Doug, don’t worry about it anymore, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”
Doug does not need to be told twice. He strokes himself fast and tight, and is only vaguely aware of the weak noises drifting out of his mouth. He can barely keep his grip on the phone.
“You sound so good, Doug.” Mark’s voice. Mark’s praise. “You’ve done really well. That’s it. A little more. Let me hear you, Doug.”
“Mark—” Doug objects, but then the tight coil in the pit of his gut releases, and his orgasm rushes over and out of him. His cock jumps with each pulse, shooting come over his hand and onto his stomach and lap. If Mark is still talking, Doug cannot hear it – his entire comprehension of existence is momentarily pinpointed in the sensitive, twitching head of his cock. He breathes deeply as the electricity passes through him in waves, trying to savor it as long as he can.
Doug slumps back into the cushions and pulls his sticky hand up to rest on his chest. He focuses on the drone of his heartbeat throughout his body, slowing down into a steady, thudding, pulse. His eyelids are heavy, his mouth dry, his limbs loose and numb, his nervous system slowly recovering from the hard reset.
Doug does not hang up the phone, and neither does Mark. The entire night comes down to this.
After a good long while of waiting on the line, Mark, bless his soul, is the first to speak.
“That was fun.”
Doug laughs immediately, endorphins flooding him. “Did you…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mark says quickly. “Sounds like you did, right?”
“Did I,” Doug sighs. “I’m still kind of, y’know, twitching.”
“Jesus, Doug.”
“Yeah, Jesus me — did you hear yourself?”
“I did,” Mark says. “You know, I meant all of it.”
Doug feels a strange tightness in his chest and throat. He wants Mark here so he can kiss him.
What the hell are they doing? Why didn’t either of them hang up fifteen minutes ago? Why aren’t they hanging up now? Have they really both been sober through all this?
“What’s your diagnosis?” Doug asks, lighthearted.
Mark sighs through his nose: a thoughtful sound. “Honestly?”
Doug hesitates. “Sure.”
“Sure,” Mark repeats, and pauses again. “Doug — honestly — I don’t know what we’re doing.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t want… to affect your personal life,” Mark sounds like he’s frowning. “If you — can’t — without… if I’m — then…”
Doug can’t help but smile. “For now just take the compliment, Mark. You’re hot stuff.”
“Thanks,” Mark says weakly. “But I’m serious. I have Jen… and you… you know.”
Doug is starting to feel adrift, and a heavy blue haze threatens to settle over his memory of the night. Mark meant all of it, but he has Jen, and Doug, Doug knows.
If Doug tried to kiss Mark he’d be pushed away. Because that’s not what this is about. Doug’s desire is a slippery, shapeless animal that darts in and out of the shadows, taunting danger. He tries to shoo it out of the road. “Let’s talk in person. You’ll bum yourself out.”
“Oh,” Mark says, lighter. “Yeah. Later. For now, yeah.”
“Yeah,” Doug agrees. For now. “That was fun.”
“You should clean yourself up,” Mark says. “And get some sleep. I don’t want to have to worry about you tomorrow.”
Doug wants to tell Mark that he’ll be thinking of nothing but him tomorrow. That he wants to do this every night. That he wants a turn playing the attending. That Mark deserves to know what he looks like when he comes, too.
“I hate feeling indebted,” Doug says. “Can I…?”
“You’re not indebted,” Mark says. He says nothing else, so that’s the end of that.
“But we should talk,” Doug insists.
“We will,” Mark says. “Not at work.”
“Not at work,” Doug agrees. “I really…” like you. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” Mark says. Like it’s nothing. “I am going to bed now.”
“Love you,” Doug jokes.
“Love you too,” Mark jokes back.
Then Mark hangs up.
A giant pit crumbles apart in the floor, spreading across the width of the apartment, descending deep into the earth, swallowing Doug and all his belongings whole.
He cleans himself up with nothing on his mind and sleeps like he’s dead.