wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight
mercutionotromeo
Summary:
Wherein Louis is a phone sex operator who would much rather listen to his pretty curly-haired neighbor get off through the wall than do his job.
Work Text:
Louis tries his best to stifle his yawn, but it doesn’t work. It’s 10:24 on a Wednesday night, and he’s been stuck answering the same types of boring calls for the better part of three hours. He enjoys this job, don’t get him wrong. Being a phone sex operator is a lot more appealing than most jobs available to uni students his age.
Besides, there’s something inherently special and private in what he does; it’s like the people that call him are giving him the gift of their vulnerability. It’s a bit of a power trip, just knowing that they need his voice to get them off.
Like all jobs, though, it does get to be a bit monotonous at times. The calls begin to blend together and the moans of customers reaching their highs start to sound the same. It’s even worse when he ends up with a night of predominantly female callers. It feels disingenuous to groan over the phone to them, to lie and say he’s hard for them, when he knows he could never feel that way about a woman. He sighs and stares at the clock. 10:25 now. He flops back onto his pillow, stretching out on his bed.
One of his regulars, Rachel, is in his ear stuttering through telling him how wet she is for his imaginary cock. “Beautiful, love. Beautiful,” he mumbles into the phone, but his heart just isn’t in it. As per usual with his Rachel calls, their conversation begins to move toward the usual marathon blowjob. Louis mentally begins to psyche himself up to moan at least partially truthfully - after all, Rachel’s just a harmless housewife, and she’s probably his most vanilla client - but someone across his bedroom wall beats him to it.
He narrows his eyes and sits up, staring hard behind him at his headboard. Louis waits quietly, wondering if he somehow imagined the sound. He listens harder...but nothing happens.
Dismayed, he scoffs at the wall and leans down to mess with the way his sock is folded. God, he needs to do laundry - calm himself down with some mindless domestic tasks. He must be really desperate for sex if he’s conjuring sounds like that out of thin air. He should get laid soon. Maybe he’ll go out with Zayn on Friday...He’s always asking, after all…. An especially loud moan erupts from his phone speaker and he winces and holds it slightly back from his ear.
“That’s great, darling, so good,” he says hurriedly into the phone, guiltily realizing he’s tuned out of this conversation far more often than he should be. He’s gotten himself refocused and is settling back against his pillows when he suddenly hears the sound again, and this time he’s sure he didn’t imagine it.
Yes, there it is - a long, drawn-out “Oh-ohhhhhhhh,” is definitely floating through the walls. He arches an eyebrow, then sits up and presses his ear to the wall. He feels a little ashamed for eavesdropping like this, but come on - he’s been stuck inside all day pretending to come for women twice his age. He deserves a little fun of his own, doesn’t he? What does it matter if said fun happens to result from the moans of his next door neighbor?
Louis scoots closer to the headboard and leans fully against the wall. “Oh, god - god, god, god….” Jesus, that voice sounds wrecked. Whoever’s moaning sounds young, but their voice is still pleasingly deep. Their accent is also getting thicker as they go, and it’s piquing Louis’ dick’s interest. He reaches down and palms his cock through his joggers.
