Cherry Bomb (A Michael Fassbender Fanfic)

15: Masturbatus-Interruptus

A/N: Spoilers ahead for Quentin Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds!

Several hours later, my phone buzzes in my hand, waking me up. I rub my eyes and stretch before unlocking the screen. I smile at the text from Michael accompanied by a selfie. He's not a selfie kind of guy, so to receive this rare treasure means a lot to me. His flight was boring and uneventful, thankfully. And he said he misses me. I text him back to let him know I miss him too and that I hope we can Skype sooner than later.

*****

My days drags on. And on. And on. I get to speak with Michael for ten minutes on Wednesday. Then again on Saturday. Sunday evening, I cuddle up on my couch and flip through the channels, shoveling spoonfuls of sugar free coffee ice cream down my throat. Michael's face fills the screen and in the midst of another bite, the ice cream drops off my spoon and into my lap. Inglorious Basterds is halfway through and luckily I catch it during Michael's last scene. I wipe off my lap and put aside the container of ice cream, leaning forward to watch his face; to listen to him speak. Good god, he's beautiful. I wrap my arms around myself and sit in silence, absorbing his voice. I quickly change the channel before his character is killed and grab my phone. I sit back, crossing my legs beneath me and attempt to call him.

After two rings, he picks up, much to my surprise. "Hey baby doll." I can hear his smile.

"You just died and I needed to talk to you."

"What now?" He chuckles.

"Inglorious Basterds."

"Ah. I see. Well, I'm here. Just wrapped up for the evening. And lucky for you, I'm headed back to the hotel." His voice lowers to a deep whisper and my cunt reacts, clenching at the sound.

I lick my lips. "And we can Skype?"

"We better Skype. Give me twenty minutes and I'm all yours for the evening."

We hang up and I rush to the bathroom to comb out my hair and pin it back. I consider shaving my legs, but is that necessary? There won't be close ups of my legs... but, oh, god... I hop in the shower and quickly give my pussy a little once-over with my razor. Maybe there won't be any sexual shenanigans, but better safe than sorry. And if we're being safe, then fuck it, I'll shave my legs too.

I consider answering his Skype call completely naked, but I'm not brave enough, plus it's cold as hell. I pull on some leggings and a camisole and pull on a cable knit sweater to keep warm until his words make me too hot for clothing. I sit up in my bed, my back against the headboard, laptop propped open in front of me at my feet. I fidget, waiting for the chimes of his call. When they finally sound, I accept and beam seeing his sleepy face on the screen.

"Hey you," I coo. I pick up my laptop and bring it closer, setting it on my knees. "You look tired."

"Yeah, I am. This movie is killing me already." He rolls his head back, and runs his hands through his hair. His beard is nicely trimmed. It's not a full beard, but it's more than just scruff. And it's a lovely ginger color. "I miss you, Frankie."

"I miss you, too."

"Let me see you. I want to see you. Naked."

I feel my cheeks redden. "Now?"

Michael smirks. "Yes."

"What do I get out of this?"

Michael narrows his eyes at me, smiling. "Tit for tat. We'll take turns."

"Okay, I can deal with that."

I lay the laptop down on the bed and shrug out of my sweater, feeling embarrassed already. Michael sits back in his bed with his arms behind his head, smiling.