Call me, call me any, anytime!

[buckingham]

the phone sex +
sexting meme

what it says on the tin. leave a blank comment, include your preferences or a starter, it's all good. reply to others with a text, a dirty picture (please link all nsfw things!), misfires, misdials, drunk filthy voicemails, whatever your heart desires.

Comments

(๑˘︶˘๑)

[morghon]

The mouth of the cave is an invitation to things unseen, true, but it's not the crystals that hold his attention. They do, fleetingly; they're startlingly beautiful, after all, like moonlight distilled into tiny, human-sized stars. He could stare at them forever... but he doesn't. Instead, his gaze flits to her face, easily, thoughtlessly, naturally, drawn by the excitement in her eyes and the happiness radiating off her like the warmth of a sun. She loves it here, as he'd hoped she would. And he made it happen. How strange, for him to feel this way, and more and more each day? He's found himself wanting more of that smile, more of that laugh, more of that wonder, and the thrill it brings him to know that he'd given her some happiness, that he can be more than what everyone back in his homeworld had said he could only ever be.

"They're real," he answers, grey eyes still not leaving her, even she tugs him forward, deeper into the cave. He won't let go unless she does. Because he wants to see if one of the crystals is calling out to her. Because he wants to keep an eye on her and make sure she stays safe. And simply because he wants his hand to remain in hers, fingers laced together, an impossible tangle that under ordinary circumstances should not be sanctioned. "I'm... not well-versed in crystal lore or science," he admits. "But I know that they are real." He does know something, occasionally. "Go on, you can touch them. You're safe."

He feels a curious ping somewhere further into the cave, a melody that's sad and haunting but eerily beautiful, and it surprises him not because he can hear it, but because he's not expected to find himself attuned to more than one crystal. Because that's what it is: a crystal calling out to him. Could it be possible, then? What she'd said, about having lightsabers in every color? She'd be delighted if that were true, and he can already see the changes to their flight plan, the detours taking longer, more roundabout, their stopovers growing in number. He also realizes the implication of that, as selfish as he knows it is. More time. Borrowed, stolen, however it is. But more of it.