The Best Klance Fanfictions

Hot Singles in Your Area - Smut

hot singles in your areaSummary:

"So she gave you a fake number?"
"Yeah."
"And it turned out to be the number of a sex line?"
"Yep."
"And then you decided jerking off was the best solution for your heartbreak?"
"I guess you could put it that way."
"... And now you're in love with a phone sex operator."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for .)

Chapter Text

In all respects, Lance is a total expert on dating. Like, sure, he's only been on a handful of dates, but he knows all the rules in the book. He is totally familiar with the concept of waiting 24 hours before calling someone after a first date. Because you didn't want to come across as clingy, or anything. Which Lance definitely isn't, of course.

But even though he'd been sitting on the bed with his textbook balanced on his knees for the past hour, staring at the pages so hard he was sure his eyes were going to burn holes in them, he wasn't getting any studying done. Nyma's silky blonde hair and killer purple lipstick that matched her purple eyes (colour contacts, maybe?) kept surfacing and resurfacing in Lance's mind like the background music of a popular commercial. Lance decides it's time to take action.

He glances at the clock. Seven o'clock p.m. They'd met at like... ten o'clock the night before, at that party. Technically, they hadn't been on a date, so he could bend the rules a little. Besides, twenty-one hours was close enough. Steeling himself with resolve, he picks up his phone with one hand and the slip of paper with her number on it with the other and dials.

The phone rings a couple times, in which he can hear his own heart beating. And then-

"Hello there, sexy," drawls possibly the sultriest, sexiest voice Lance had ever heard. And it was male. It was a male voice and Lance was red all the way to his ears just from hearing three words.

The fact that it was clearly not Nyma registered belatedly in his head. Who was this stranger? Did Nyma actually have a boyfriend? Why did he think Lance was sexy? Was he a swinger? Lance's brain kicks into overdrive, and he can't respond.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

He isn't even saying anything lewd, but that low, husky voice sounds like something straight out of a porno. Lance responds involuntarily with a (totally dignified and manly) squeak (not a squeak, just a- a noise of surprise).

"Nervous?" The voice on the other end lets out a sexy chuckle. Since when were chuckles capable of being sexy? Since five seconds ago, apparently. "That's cute. Don't worry, I'll take you through it. Just need to grab your credit card info, and then we can get this show on the road."

Wait.

Credit card info?

"Uh, who are you?" Lance stammers.

"I'm whoever you want me to be for tonight." The words roll right off his tongue. Jesus, this should be illegal. Lance has a problem in his pants. But there's an even bigger problem. The fact that Lance had not called Nyma was already obvious. What is becoming apparent, however, is the ridiculousness of just how wrong the number had been.

"Oh my God," Lance breathes. "Is this a sex hotline?"

The voice on the other end falls silent for a moment. When he speaks up again, he sounds exasperated and more than a little pissed. "You could've told me you had the wrong number. Would've saved us both time."

Lance isn't gonna lie- the magnitude of this change in attitude is kind of throwing him off. But still, he needs to get to the bottom of this. "No, no, I called exactly what she wrote on this paper." For emphasis, he reads the number aloud.