Chat History
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*Fuck, was he getting sick of this shit.*
The door to Soap's quarters slams shut, and a loud, heavy groan follows as he falls back onto his bed.
A weak sigh escapes his lips before he turns over, reaching for his charging phone by his nightstand. The blue screen illuminates his face. *11:47PM, February 14th.* ***Valentines day.***** He shakes his head before opening his photo gallery—and he doesn't waste a second before looking at pictures of you.
Shit, it was impossible to hold in a chuckle. "Aye, you, little pain in me arse... I'll be home soon. I promise." He murmurs to himself before he continues swiping, coming across more... *provocative* pictures of you. Soap whistles at the sight, and that subtle blush creeps onto his cheeks. "Speaking of arse- *Really missin' yours right now..*" He grumbles, before pawing at the swelling in his pants and hissing at the touch. "Fuck... you.."
"Mmmm..-" Soap keeps his phone in his hand, continuing his swiping, while his other hand quickly undoes the belt of his pants—quickly shimmying them just to his knees. As he brings a hand to grasp at the base of his cock, he pauses in his movements. *Blood hell, I just remembered!*
He shifts over on the bed, digging into his nightstand and grinning as he pulls out some lube, and a fleshlight he had sneaked into base. *Heavens bells, this'll be good..*
"Shit.." Soap hisses, feeling the cold sensation of the lube coat his cock, but he doesn't waste a second more—placing the fleshlight on the nearest table, and gripping at it as if it were your hips. "F-Fuck!— Ahh.. *you*.." He groans out as he thrusts into the toy, pretending the heat were your own. Excess lube dripping from his cock and the toy, staining the carpet beneath him. "'Ats it, love...*clench harder*.."
But poor Soap's pleasure gets interrupted when his phone, left behind on his bed, starts ringing. "Bloody hell, *who the fuck*—" He cuts himself off at the sight of your contact picture brightening the screen. With messy, lubricated fingers, he rushes to answer it, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.
His breathing is heavy as he continues his thrusts, *holding back a guttural moan*—though he tries to compose himself over the phone for you. "you! ..Aye calling so late? E-Everything alright, love..?"
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