Work Text:
Harris
I miss you
The message from Harris lurked ominously in Troy's notifications. Not because of the fact it was Harris, definitely not because it Harris, but because of the conversation they'd had before this road trip.
I miss you was easy for Troy to deal with, he missed Harris right back, it was what came next, the expectation, the dick pic of it all. Not that he didn't want to send one, but he hadn't done this before. He probably should have told Harris that, actually, that would have been sensible. Harris who was so patient with him, who would have understood, who probably just assumed that he had… It felt so ridiculous to say that he, a 25 year old man, who'd been in a long distance relationship, had never taken a picture of his dick before. It had felt awkward enough sneaking a photo of himself in his hockey pads before he finished getting changed earlier.
Troy flicked quickly to the photos, phone tilted defensively towards him, even here in the privacy of his own hotel room. They weren't bad by any means, he'd tried a few poses, flexing (Harris liked his muscles); underwear tugged down on one side (he figured that gave a good hint of what was to come (him, hopefully, after Harris)); giving the mirror his best come hither eyes (that one had taken six tries)… maybe there was a way he could edit his face less red? Harris would know, but also Harris wouldn't help because he'd think this was adorable. Adorable, not hot, not handsome, Troy didn't want to be a charity case, he wanted to be the kind of boyfriend who could just take a picture of his own dick like it was nothing. Send photos, write about what he was going to do to Harris when he got home, and then jack off to whatever great work of horny photography and literature Harris sent back.
It wasn't even that he thought it'd be bad, if he didn't want to do it Harris would never make him. The thought of it was exciting. Sneaking the pictures had felt awkward, but the rush afterwards, the anticipation of more had been nice - this could be good, he just needed to get out of his own head… thank goodness he'd always found that so easy to do.
With Adrian it had always seemed to risky, they were so careful about what they sent and how they sent it, they'd stroked themselves off while on the phone a few times, hurried and perfunctory, mostly just a mix of grunts, and moans, and you're so hot's. Harris deserved more than that, Troy wanted to be good for him, wanted to do it right. Google had been precisely no help and mostly just served him a lot of examples of what not to do. What he really needed was someone to ask for advice, someone to tell him what to do and how to do it.
Shit.
Troy groaned and flopped backwards onto the bed. He was never going to live this down. He was going to die of embarrassment before he'd even managed to ask, twice, probably, then a third death just for good measure. But he unlocked his phone anyway. This was worth it. He was doing this for Harris. Harris just wouldn't need to know he'd had to ask for help.
Troy navigated to the text thread and typed.
Troy
Hey, you up?
Ilya
What is happening?
Troy
I need your help
Ilya
Ask Harris to help you
Troy
I can't. I need help now.
Ilya
Tell me you know what a 'you up' message means?
Troy
Are you awake and able to help or not?
Ilya
You do not know? You are being idiot?
Troy
What? Can you just come to my room?
Ilya
As friend, yes?
Troy
Why else would I be asking you for help?
Ilya
Fine. I will come.
Ilya
TO YOUR ROOM.
Ilya
To help you, AS YOUR FRIEND.
Troy
??????
Troy pulls the door open as soon as Ilya knocks.
"Barrett, you sustain head injury? I need to get medics? You having some sort of confusion episode? I need to contact Harris?" Ilya raised his hand to Troy's forehead as if checking for a temperature.
Troy did not need this right now.
"I'm fine," Troy glanced around hurriedly, making sure the corridor was empty before he pushed the door shut behind Ilya. He didn't need any witnesses to this humiliation.
"If you are fine then why are you sending 'hey you up's?"
"What?" Troy preferably needed Ilya to shut up, listen, produce a list of written instructions on how to take good pictures of your penis that Troy could read quietly, then make himself available for any follow up questions before Ilya left, instantly forgot everything that had happened, and never mentioned it again.
"'Hey you up', is sex message." Ilya was looking at Troy like he was the one being ridiculous, not Ilya.
"What? Gross!"
"Is not gross, I'm a beautiful man!" Ilya's eyebrows knit together in a look of indignation.
Why was Ilya offended right now?
"I'm not going to have this conversation."
"You started it, you sent the message," Ilya said as he flopped himself into one of the armchairs by the window.
"I didn't kno…"
"Everyone knows this!" Ilya shrugged as if he wasn't being completely infuriating.
"Look, I'm not some… some… Russian sex machine, I didn't…" Troy trailed off, there was no chance to finish the sentence because the look of delight on Ilya's face coupled with the laugh that escaped him meant that Troy was going to be suffering the consequences of this for a long time.
Ilya coughed, schooled his face back into something approximating a solemn expression and Troy hoped that maybe he'd decided not to fuck with him about this one.
"Russian sex machine." Ilya repeated solemnly.
Troy should have known better.
"Ilya," Troy tried to level with him.
"No, that is not the name I prefer, you gave me a much better one," Ilya raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"I hate you," Troy decided he may as well sit. There was no point in fighting for his life while standing.
"So, why you ask Russian sex machine for help?"
"Uh…" Troy wanted less than anything to actually say the words right now.
"You were actually hitting on me? I cannot blame you, I…"
Troy did not want to let Ilya finish the sentence.
"No!"
"Uh huh, so you want me to guess? Is a fun new game?"
Less than anything did Troy want Ilya to guess.
"You can't tell anyone," he said, because that was probably a good place to start. "In fact if you could literally never mention this again after tonight that would be great."
Ilya's thick eyebrows knit closer together. "Everything is okay?"
Fuck. Troy didn't need actual concern making this more difficult.
"How do you take dick pics?" he blurted out fast. So fast he wondered for a moment if Ilya had even heard him.
Ilya let out a noise of pure joy.
Shit.
Ilya was clearly trying to school his features back into something approaching reasonable.
"You want me to help you take pictures for Harris?" Ilya's voice was laced with barely disguised glee.
Troy glowered.
Ilya grinned. "Well, you came to the best, we need to move these chairs and that lamp," he was on his feet before Troy could fully process what was going on, "… do you have another… yes!"
Ilya grabbed the bedside lamp.
"You shower has glass screen too?" Ilya asked.
Troy nodded.
"Let me check lighting, maybe lamp will shine if we prop door open... Yes. Excellent…"
Troy stood up. It felt like he should be involved in this somehow, he should do something?
"Sit down," Ilya ordered.
Troy sat.
"I'm going to tell you a lot of things and you are going to listen. Then I will show you how to use the timer mode and lights, and then I am going to go away and you are going to make Harris a very happy man."
—
Troy felt ridiculous. This was just… awkward. He had put on his tight athletic shirt and some sweatpants under direction from Ilya, and now he just had to get an erection and take a picture. Simple. If not for the fact that worrying about doing a bad job of taking a picture was apparently a massive boner killer.
What was not a massive boner killer, was Harris… Maybe Troy didn't need to pre-prep this, maybe he could just message? He had the hockey pad photos from earlier, that would buy him some time to take some more.
Troy tapped out a message.
Troy
I miss you too
The reply was almost immediate, shit, he really shouldn't have waited so long, Harris must have been waiting on him.
Harris
Troy!
Harris
You did great tonight!
Harris
We made a gif from your second goal, it's getting loads of attention.
Harris messaged like he spoke, a lot. Troy loved it. He allowed himself a sappy smile as the messages popped onto his screen.
Harris
Also, you looked really hot.
Troy
Oh really?
It was a weak start, but hopefully Harris would forgive him once he sent the hockey pads photo.
Harris
Really really, you always look hot, but they zoomed in on you all flushed and rucked up and I wasn't thinking about hockey
any more.
That certainly perked Troy up. Okay, he could do this. Troy just had to remember these were for Harris, Harris was going to see these, Harris was going to love these.
Harris
and I'm not thinking about hockey now, although you could definitely still score.
Troy laughed and shook his head, he loved the way Harris managed to put so much of himself into everything he did, the humour, the love, the care. Troy was an idiot, this wasn't scary.
Troy
I took a few photographs at the rink for you which might increase my chances of scoring tonight
Harris
Send them right now!
Okay, may it was scary. Shit. He pulled up the photos again, scrutinised them, were they sexy? Would they just make Harris laugh?
Harris
I'm dying here, bud
Troy sent the photos.
Harris
Fuck
Fuck was good? Fuck was bad?
Harris
You've killed me. I'm dead.
Troy
I hope not, I had plans for you
Troy can let Harris think he's just talking about sex tonight and not rest-of-their-life kinda plans, that's fine.
Harris
Why haven't you been sending these every time you play away? I could have papered the ceiling with them.
Harris
No, you're right, it's too much power. I shouldn't be able to see this all the time. You're going to have to confiscate these
and ration them to me or I'll fail all my flow tests.
Harris
because all the blood will be elsewhere, if that wasn't clear.
Troy
Where would that be?
Harris
Can you guess?
Troy stared at the photo attached to the message, Harris, reclined on his bed, topless, bulge very visible in his pyjama pants. Troy wished he was there to graze his teeth along Harris' belly. Fuck. Okay, he was right, Harris was absolutely the opposite of a boner killer. Troy squeezed himself through his jogging bottoms, and wished it could have been Harris' hand instead. Shit, that was probably his cue.
Troy tried not to think too hard, faced the mirror, crooked a thumb into the side of his waistband, and pulled slightly. He took a few pictures like that, then let the elastic go, bulge still glaringly obvious (as it should be, he wanted Harris to know exactly what he did to Troy.)
Troy sent two photographs, one which showed the band of muscle by his hip that Harris loved so much, his sweatpants pulled low and held in place. The second one showed him palming his very obvious erection through his joggers, and he picked it specifically so he could use the line:
Troy
Wish it was your hand
Harris
Sometimes I think I must be exaggerating how hot you are in my head
Harris
Nope.
Harris
There you are, with those abs and that face
Troy laughed softly as he moved toward the chair, Ilya had mentioned something about low angles and strong poses and wide legs. It seemed like he was doing okay so far, he would ask Harris, but that would probably ruin the flow of things and he didn't want to do anything that was going to prevent Harris sending him more pictures. Troy wants to see more of him.
Harris obliged, and sent another picture, his hand cupping the front of his pyjamas.
Troy
That should be my hand.
Harris
Well maybe you shouldn't keep going away for work and leaving me to fend for myself
Harris
(Please don't stop going away for work, the Cents are doing really well and me and my dick will be sad if we get back on
our losing streak)
Troy smirked, a previous version of him, a worse version, would probably have cringed at all the messages, but he loved that Harris texted like he spoke, frequent and funny.
Troy
I wouldn't want to make your dick sad
He used the desk drawers to rig a stand for his camera, low enough down that it gave him the look Ilya had advised. When he shifted the desk lamp slightly the lighting looked kind of like what he was aiming for. That seemed good enough. He hit the button, and realised he'd completely forgotten to set the timer, rectified it, and posed.
Harris
You know what would make my dick really happy?
Harris
Troy?
Harris
I've been abandoned, send abs
Troy
Did you mean help?
Harris
There you are!
Harris
and no
Troy laughed, shaking his head fondly, maybe he could go slightly off script if it was a request. He leaned back and tensed, trying to take a photo that would make Harris happy. It took a few goes, but he managed one that was mostly in focus, showing his abs and his hand laid across the hair on his stomach that Harris loved to follow until he reached Troy's dick, and sent it.
Harris
Thanks bud, I was fading fast
Harris
Really needed that
Harris
Abs-olutely great shot
Troy
How about this?
Troy sent one of the leaning shots, his legs were spread wide, arms rested loosely on his thighs, making sure the focal point was the bulge of his erection. It looked good, he thought, the adjustments of the lamp helped, but it seemed right. He didn't want Harris to think he wasn't putting effort in. Harris deserved all the effort, Harris deserved high quality.
Harris
Holy shit
Harris
I'd love to be on my knees in front of you right now
Troy wished he was.
Troy
wish you were
Harris
What would I see if I was?
Harris
You probably wouldn't be able to see me doing this…
Troy played the video Harris had sent with the message again and again. He watched Harris dragging his hand agonisingly slowly up and down his dick and Troy couldn't help zeroing in on the cute freckle at the tip, he wanted to kiss it. This was spectacular, he watched again, dragging his hand up his dick in time, wishing it was Harris'.
Harris
Did I break you?
Shit. He needed to reply… he needed to up his game.
Troy let the shower run while he double checked the lamp, then eased off his jogging bottoms, he remembered some steam was good, not too much, just enough to be atmospheric. The phone fit easily into the toothpaste cup which held it at a decent level to get the shot he wanted. He killed the shower, set the timer, and stood, completely naked, behind the glass.
The first attempt was rough, the light was wrong, highlighting his pecs, not his dick, his pose was awkward, but he could see what adjustments he needed to make. He moved the desk lamp, looked at Harris' photos and video again for 'inspiration' (and may have had to give his dick a few more strokes to help cope with that), and tried again. Three more shots and he had it.
Troy looked good. Troy looked great. Harris was going to love this.
Harris
Did I actually kill you?
Harris
Because this is going to be really awkward to explain to Wiebe…
Troy was really ballsing this up, but sending a not dead, just give me a minute message didn't exactly seen sexy. He looked over the latest batch again with his eyes narrowed, they were good, he thought, they showed him through the shower door, light glowy and focused on his crotch. Through the screen, Troy had hit a few poses, turned to the side so Harris could see the length of him (and hopefully think about it being inside him); face on, one hand caught jacking himself off; pressed against the screen, dick trapped between his stomach and the glass. He cropped the images but made sure to leave in plenty of his thighs because he knew Harris would like that. Harris loved Troy's thighs nearly as much as Troy loved worshipping Harris'.
Harris
Fuck me
Yes! Okay, it was worth it. He was doing this.
Troy
I'd love to, but you're too far away
Harris
Fly home, you've got private jet money right?
Harris
Wait!
Harris
not really, don't actually do that!
Harris
that was horny brain speaking
Harris
you'd better not be looking up planes.
Troy closed the tab he definitely hadn't opened.
Troy
Obviously not looking at planes
Troy
I'm looking at you
And now that he was back on the chat, that last video was reminding him exactly why he'd started Googling private jets. He wanted Harris underneath him, he wanted to be able to kiss him, graze his teeth over his skin, pin his hips down while he wriggled, and tease him until Troy couldn't resist getting his mouth around Harris' dick.
Harris
Hey, bud, not that I don't appreciate the artistry of these, I love these, but how about something lower production?
Harris
I don't want you having to stage things when you could be enjoying yourself
Shit, had Troy fucked up?
Harris
Again, to be so clear, great work, top notch horny photos, I will be reviewing these when you travel
Harris
and when you're not home
Harris
and possibly when you are home and I can fuck you about it
Troy smiled at that.
Troy
thanks
He didn't mean for the compliments, but Harris didn't need to know that.
Harris
But I'd also like to see your dick in your hand.
Harris
Show me what you're doing while you think about me
Troy being teary eyed because his boyfriend was great and he still felt emotional about how lucky he was probably wasn't what Harris had in mind.
Harris
Just FYI, this is what you've got me doing
Harris sent another video, his pyjamas kicked far away, legs spread, thighs hairy and tempting Troy to knead them. His hand worked faster now, little huffs of breath telling Troy that Harris was getting closer and he needed to catch up. Harris in the video paused to stroke his hand along his taint, up to his balls, lingering over the touch. It should be Troy, Troy's mouth should be on him, sucking gently at his sack, licking firmly across his taint, fingers grabbing the meat of his ass.
Troy threw himself onto the bed and switched to the camera. He could do this, he could follow direction no problem.
Problem, Troy had no idea what he was doing.
He'd cycled between selfie mode and the main camera twice, trying to figure out what Harris would like best.
Harris
You good?
Troy wanted to do this.
He played hockey in front of huge crowds, he did press, he could do this.
Troy angled the camera above his hips, and hit record. It didn't have to be anything, he didn't have to send it if it was bad. Harris was lying in their bed naked and wanting and Troy was going to give him a show or at least try. Troy's dick twitched in appreciation of that fact. Fuck it, that was a good start.
Troy
look, no hands
Harris' reply came by way of voice note, a huge laugh which Troy was definitely going to save to listen to later when he missed him.
Harris
Rude to make me laugh so hard when I am so hard
Troy ran his hand over his crotch, teasing himself, delaying, keeping Harris on edge as much as himself.
Harris
You're so hot
Harris
but that looks uncomfortable, want to do something about it?
Troy hit record again, a snatch of himself running his hand down his abs, over his hip, under his balls.
Troy
you do something about it
Harris
How about this?
Harris sent a picture of his favourite plug, laid across his stomach.
That was enough to move Troy's hand straight to his dick.
Troy
fuck
He sent a video to Harris, hand working over his dick, it was probably blurry, Troy didn't give a shit.
Harris
Well HELLO
Harris
I win!
Harris
On several fronts
Harris
has anyone ever told you you're really hot?
Troy let the phone flop beside him and focused on sensation for a moment. He had no idea how Harris typed so fast one handed. His phone lit up again, and Troy grabbed it fumbling slightly in his haste to open the video Harris had just sent.
He groaned as he watched Harris pushing the plug into himself, that should be Troy pushing slowly into him. Fuck.
Troy
your killing me
Harris
;)
Troy
you sure i cant get the jet
Harris
You're going to fly several hours with a boner?
Troy
for you
Harris
So romantic
Troy hit record again, he wanted to make sure Harris saw how hard he made Troy.
Troy
this is your fault
Harris
Fuck
Harris
that's a great view
Harris
I wish you were here
Harris
I sound like a shit postcard, but I really do wish you were right here
Troy gasped a laugh when Harris followed that message up with a video of his hand pulsing against the base of the plug. Before Harris he'd never laughed so much while fucking, never thought he'd want to. Sex was sex, it was fun and hot and nowhere near as good as he had it now, thank fuck he'd had no idea what he was missing. Thank fuck he had it now.
Harris
Want to video call?
Harris
I just really want to see you
Troy started the call before Harris could finish whatever message the three dots showed he was sending.
"Hey buddy," Harris said, grinning broadly, phone focused on his face.
Troy wanted to be able to scritch his nails through Harris' beard, he loved the way his coarse hair felt, loved the noises Harris made when he did it.
"Hey," Troy replied, "you're really hot, just so you know."
"You might have given me a few subtle hints to imply you think so," Harris raised his eyebrows, "but I think you should give me some more."
"Tell me," Troy replied. He wanted to be good to Harris, wanted to give him exactly what he needed.
Harris looked delighted. Troy ignored the way his dick twitched in response, so what if he liked pleasing Harris.
"Prop the camera up so I can see you," Harris said quickly.
Troy glanced around, trying to figure out what was going to be the best option.
"Troy, I'm going to die of horniness and you're going to have to explain why they need to hire someone new to do the social media."
"Hey! I saw that!" Harris said, smile still on his face to let Troy know that he wasn't actually in trouble for rolling his eyes at him.
Troy propped the phone on the night stand, close enough that he'd be able to see Harris, but with a clear view down his body. "There?"
"Perfect," Harris' grin turned into something much more wolfish that sent heat straight back to Troy's stomach. "Show me what you were doing?" Harris asked as he propped his own phone up.
"Wait, are you using a proper stand?" Troy had no idea why the concept made him feel so indignant.
"Do you want to cheat yourself out of a better show?" Harris cocked an eyebrow at Troy as he sat in front of the tripod, leaving Troy with a view of the plug's base, Harris' dick, and a swathe of hairy stomach Troy should be rubbing his face against.
"No," Troy answered quickly, hand already circling his cock again, "you're perfect."
Harris gently, teasingly rolled his balls between his thumb and fingers, "oh am I now?"
Troy let out a hard breath, "Harris, touch yourself."
"I am."
He kept on moving, agonisingly slow, rubbing his fingers over the skin Troy knew felt like velvet underneath the coarse hair.
"More," Troy thrust up into his hand, wanting so much more than this, knowing it was all he could have tonight.
"Like this?" Harris' hand crept towards his dick, single finger drawing up the length of him, circling the head.
That should be Troy's tongue, he should be wrapping his lips around the tip of Harris' cock and pulling a moan out of him.
"More," Troy knew he sounded wrecked already, he didn't care.
Harris' hand wrapped around his dick, squeezed the base.
"Like this?" Harris repeated, the teasing tone replaced by something more sultry, something that left Troy wanting him even more.
"Slow down," Harris said, "stay in time with me."
Troy groaned, hand immediately stilling. Being told what to do meant he couldn't fuck up, if Harris was in charge, Troy didn't have to think, he just had to react.
"You're mean," Troy said, because he could tell Harris later how much he appreciated this, but Harris loved pushback, and it was mean, Troy's hand should be flying over his dick in response to what he was lucky enough to be seeing.
"I think you like it," Harris said, hand moving again, slow, steady.
Troy more than liked it as his hand began to move in time.
"Good," Harris said, and that praise kindled some heat in Troy too.
He kept his hand steady though, no matter how much he wanted more, paced himself with Harris, stopped himself from taking any more than he was allowed.
"Fuck," Harris panted.
Troy watched his stomach flex and twitch, watched his hand speed up, sped up alongside him.
"Harris," Troy didn't know what he was asking for.
Harris gasped in reply, thighs tensing, one hand moving to press against the base of his plug.
"Close," Harris gasped.
"Fuck, can I…" Troy sped up his hand, not waiting for Harris to reply, fuck it, if he was going to cum Troy wanted to be as close behind him as possible.
Harris' hand was more erratic now, he ground down against his fingers, pushed himself up into his palm, gasped Troy's name. Troy wasn't far behind him, hand working fast, still trying to match Harris, stomach flexing. He didn't care what he was doing with his face, didn't care what Harris could see right now, just wanted Harris to finish, he wanted to know it was because of him.
Harris managed to bite out a "fuuuuuck," as he came, hands slowing but not stopping as he worked himself through each pulse of it.
The camera moved up Harris' body to his face, "you too," Harris panted as he flopped back onto the bed, grinning into the phone and right back out at Troy.
If Troy was good at anything, it was doing what Harris told him. He'd never been one for elegant sexy noises. Harris managed it effortlessly, moans, throaty things that set Troy's heart racing even faster, Troy's name. Troy never was much good at that, so he came with a grunt, inelegant, functional.
"Show me," Harris said quickly, voice catching round the words.
Troy quickly tried to fumble the camera round, he hadn't realised he'd knocked it, he'd been too caught up in the moment. He thrust into his hand a few more times, wanting to make sure he completed the show for Harris, wanting to know he saw every drop that Troy spilled for him.
He finally stilled his hand, but didn't let go, "fuck," Troy muttered.
"Good?" Harris asked.
"Good… so good."
"Did you actually try and book a plane?" Harris asked. The arm not holding the phone was thrown over his head, he looked so comfortable spread out on their bed, Troy wished he could tuck himself into Harris' side.
"No," Troy replied, too quickly.
"Hot."
"Shut up."
"Come here and make me," Harris laughed, giddy, loud, entirely perfect.
"I miss you," Troy said.
"I miss you too."
"Was that… okay?" Troy promised himself he wasn't going to ask for feedback, but he needed to know that he hadn't fucked this up.
"You had me on the edge for an hour, then made me cum so hard I briefly forgot my own name."
Oh. Well. That was hard to argue with.
Apparently Troy was going to try anyway. "But did I… were the pictures?"
"I will show you the folder I have saved them safely into so that I can revisit them many many many many many many many times…" Harris paused, "many many many times."
"So you liked them?"
"How many more manys would you like me to say? It's starting to lose meaning, but I'll do it." Harris tried and failed to stave off a yawn.
Troy didn't need to give any more air time to insecurities, he didn't want to put that on Harris. The evidence was there, seared happily into Troy's memory, Harris enjoyed himself, Troy did a good job. "I love you, you should get some sleep."
"I love you too, bud," Harris yawned again. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," Troy waved back at Harris as the call ended, shoved his phone onto the bedside table, and slept.
—
Troy woke up the following morning to a blaring alarm, messy sheets, and absolutely no regrets. He reached over and killed his alarm, flopped back onto the bed, and swiped straight to his messages. Showering could wait. There was one from Harris, thanking him for last night and excited to see him later.
There was one more unread message, one from a contact Troy definitely had not saved to his own phone.
Russian Sex Machine
Hope Harris liked his photographs xx