Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R for sexual and nudity references
Summary: George stared at his cell phone, aghast. He knew he had taught his love better than the pathetic greeting he had just received, but perhaps it was time he give him a reminder.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Slash, Established Couple
Word Count (excluding heading): 436
Disclaimer: Eric Matthews, George Feeny, and Boy Meets World are & TM Disney, not the author, and are used without permission. Everything else is & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
"Whodis?"
George pulled his head back from the phone and gaped at it in shock. He could not believe the horrid sound that was screeching across the line from his beloved's cell. He quirked his brows, then lowered them determinedly. Eric knew better than to use such poor language that could not even be constituted as actual words; he simply needed a reminder. George lowered his voice to a husky tone that hinted of danger, put his hand partially over the receiver, and spoke, "I could be your worst nightmare."
"Nah," came the enthusiastic reply over the phone. "Ya can't be my worst nightmare when you're already my fondest dream."
George smiled, dropped his hand from covering the receiver, and tried to let his love's poor use of English pass him by. Finding he could not, he sighed. "Eric, I've taught you better than that."
"Better than what?" the boy asked with pretend innocence. Then, before Feeny could answer him, he continued, "I looked at the number before I answered, and I just couldn't resist teasing you, sweetheart."
"That is no way to tease, Eric," George said, his smile pulling down into a frown. He knew he had taught him far better than that. The English language was not a toy! He heard his young lover sigh over the phone before he spoke again.
"No?" he asked. "Well, how about this? I am waiting for you in your abode, stretched in the luxuriousness of your favorite chair, and being bathed in the warmth and light of your fire. I am hot, naked, lonely, and desperately needing you, mon amour."
The sudden smoothness of Eric's voice had demanded George's immediate attention, but as he had continued to talk, every fiber of George's being had perked up, paid utmost attention to his every perfectly-pronounced syllable, and begged for more like a dog. When Eric finished, his mouth was not only dry. It, like his pants, was tight and longing to have its thirst quenched by Eric's sweet nectar.
A moment skipped between them like a shared heartbeat. Eric grinned devilishly as he listened to George's heavy breathing. The boy would have sworn that he could hear his man smiling and aching to hold him, touch him, and fill him just as Eric had been aching to do for and to him all day long. "Hurry home, darling," he breathed.
"I shall," Feeny managed to gasp out, "my sweet, sweet love." He laid his foot down upon the adrenaline pedal and sped faster than he had ever driven before on his way home to his heart's desire, the language lesson completely forgotten.
The End