Melon Ice (Thai Boyfriend Called while Sex)

I still remember the night my Thai cosplay partner called right in the middle of everything, his voice crackling through the speaker as I tried to keep my breathing steady. We’d been tangled up for an hour, the AC humming, his skin salty under my palms, and then his phone buzzed—his boyfriend, oblivious, asking where he was. I froze mid-thrust, but he just grinned, pressed a finger to my lips, and kept moving, slow and deliberate, while chatting about dinner plans. The contrast was dizzying: his casual tone upstairs, the slick heat of us downstairs, the way he clenched around me every time he lied about being stuck in traffic. I could feel his pulse hammering under my tongue, taste the faint sweetness of melon ice he’d eaten earlier, and when he finally hung up, he laughed, breathless, and pulled me deeper. We didn’t last long after that—just raw, quiet, desperate, the phone still glowing on the pillow. Sometimes I still hear that ringtone and shiver.