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[mortemscintilla]

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[mortemscintilla]

[ Each time her breath catches, he closes his hand into fists. Opens them again, shakily, gaze fixed on the monitor as if in a trance. His erection strains dizzyingly against his zipper. But he doesn't take it out, doesn't touch himself. That would drag his focus off what's happening onscreen. When she comes, he maps out the familiar tremors, watches her hand fly to her mouth to muffle that sweet scream. Has to suck in a breath, deep and slow, because he's halfway there with her. ]

[ It's only when she's burrowed under the covers -- from centerfold princess to guilty teenager in 0.5 seconds -- does he pull his gaze away. He retreats to the narrow bathroom, where he runs the shower as hard as it'll go. Tries to think of anything but what he's just seen -- and everything he can so easily conjure from memory -- as he brings himself off with rapid strokes and a soapy hand, once, twice, until he slumps with an arm against the wall, head lowered under the falling stream, lips parted to gasp. ]