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Thinking Of You

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Sometimes I find myself thinking about you, filling the small hours of the night with sinful visions of what I wish were the truth. Maybe it should make me sad that we're not together in the way that I wish we were, but then I realize that I'm at least happy we're friends and band mates.

What would it be like if you knew how I felt, if you knew about the things I imagine? Would you love me back or would you hate me for wanting you? I really wish it were just so simple that I could figure your reaction out beforehand and avoid all the pain that could come with it.

I lean my head back against the wall of our shared apartment. I almost feel as though I can sense your presence on the other side of this barrier. As though your warmth radiates through to me. If only that were true.

I run my fingers through my hair and let a soft sigh escape my lips as my eyes slip shut. My hand trails down my body, coming to rest upon the evidence of just what I've been imagining for the past hour as I write these lyrics; lyrics that will never see the light of day. No, these lyrics are just for you and I. Maybe more for me, since you'll never even know they exist.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I lightly squeeze my arousal. The paper and pen fall off my leg and lay innocuously on the bed beside of me. My touches become more substantial and I moan softly into the darkness.

What if you are on the other side of this wall, listening to everything that I do? Do you think me a pervert for jerking off while you're home? Or maybe you think it's normal for a guy to want to get off. But I never hear you... and trust me, I listen ever so closely.

I push my silver boxers out of the way, freeing myself to the warm night air. I let my eyes slide down my own torso, coming to rest on my obviously aroused cock. Gently, I grip myself in my hand and begin to slowly pump. My tongue darts out and wets my lips, the sensation driving me closer to the edge.

Is it bad that I could already cum? So little stimulation physically, but so much mentally. Every night it's like this, always the same result as you lay in bed in the next room, completely oblivious to the fact that it's you I want, you that I need. One day it's all going to come crashing down around me, one day I'll slip up and let out too much. It's basically inevitable.

I close my eyes again and speed up my movements, allowing my lithe fingers to caress my length in all the right places. A shiver rips through my body and a moan slips past my lips, deep and clear in the silence of the night. I arch into my own touch, knowing the end will come at any minute.

My hand moves faster and I gasp for each breath, my hips bucking desperately against my wrist. I grasp at the wall with my other hand, trying to find purchase that I'll never have. Finally, my fingers curl into a fist and I cry out, far louder than I intend to, as my cum splashes over my fingers, coating them in a fine sheen of white fluid.

I collapse back against the wall and let out a low groan as I attempt to regain some amount of composure. Gods, that felt like heaven. It always feels better when I imagine it's your fingers working magic over my length.

My eyes stare blankly at the opposite wall and I feel lost for a moment. I squeeze my eyes shut and I allow myself the only thing that can remotely fill this void within me. "Tohru..."

Something hits the wall and I hear you groan from the next room. My eyes widen and I turn to stare at the wall behind me. No way... you can't be! You've never done it before... why now?

Your voice rings out clearer than mine ever could have, full of pleasure. There's no mistaking it, you're doing exactly what I think you are. I place my palms flat against the wall and lean my cheek against the cool surface. I let my eyes slide closed as I imagine you bringing yourself off right in front of me, following me over the edge into bliss.

You moan and I could swear it sounds a bit like my name. But then everything's quiet and I can only assume you've finished, just like I have.

A smile caresses my lips and only then do I realize I've smeared my cum across the wall. I let out a disgruntled sound and grab some tissue to mop up the mess. Once I'm done, I flop back on my bed and push the paper and pen into the floor with my foot, tugging the covers up over my tired body. I'm spent... in more ways than one.

And you're spent.

The thought leaves a stupid grin plastered on my face and I roll over, snuggling into my pillow, one hand against the wall, as I drift off to sleep.