Imagination
"Oh, god." The epithet would've gone unnoticed had Kaneda's door been closed, but it isn't. I freeze, my hand on the knob as I watch Kaneda's shaken intake of breath. I wonder... if he turned around, would he see the pain in my eyes? But he doesn't turn. I almost wish he would, but he's busy with the knot in his tie, his movements somehow incredibly seductive. I want nothing more than to step forward, to give into that urge to see just what those lips of his taste like. But he's continuing, a soft choke and then, "My suit," and I realize suddenly just what the call is. I back out of the room, closing the door carefully enough to keep him from noticing, and lean against it. His voice is so soft, I can no longer hear just what he's saying, but it doesn't matter. I can imagine well enough what's going on, how the banter goes back and forth as he slowly strips. Why is it that he hurts me like he did and I'm still lingering at his door, wondering who's on the phone with him? Why can't my body behave?
Because... it's not behaving. I hear a faint thud that must be him falling on the bed, and feel the faint pinch against one nipple. I have to look down to realize I'm pinching it myself, that my hand has slipped under my sweater to tease the hard nub. My other hand is rubbing the outside of my pants, but my eyes aren't on it anymore. Instead, they're closed, head tilted back against the door as I imagine just what's going on inside the room. I can see it in my mind, can see the way Kaneda tucks the phone against his ear and shoulder, allowing his hands freedom to roam over his body. I can see the way his hand closes around his weeping cock, stroking it in a slow, smooth rhythm I'm even now emulating with my own freed arousal.
There's music now, sudden music and it doesn't take much to imagine his free hand jerking up to turn it on, to cover the moans that must be slipping from his lips. Trust self-controlled Kaneda to be so quiet even in the middle of such passion... And I won't let him down. My hand is tugged from my sweater, and I press my wrist into my mouth, biting down to keep from making a sound as my thumb rolls over the head of my cock, so wet with my own need. To be held by those strong hands, slowly split in two and filled to overflowing... Why didn't I see Kaneda this way before? Why didn't he let me kiss him?
I come with a shuddering sob, body arching hard into my hand and the release almost violent. Stars swim behind my lids, and for a long moment I can't even breathe, too lost in this pleasure. If this is what it's like with my own hands...
He doesn't come out investigating as I catch my breath, sagged to the ground and still cupping my softening cock. I'll need to clean up the wall before he comes out, and spray some freshener. It smells heavily of sex in here. For a moment, my lethargic limbs don't even want to move, but soon enough, I'm stumbling to my feet, my pants set to rights. I'm so focussed on the lingering pleasure flitting through my body, and what I need to clean up, that I never notice the bite-mark bruises on my wrist, hidden by my long sleeves.