Oblivious

3. unlocked doors

Warm water pelted down my back, coaxing my frozen limbs to flare alive. I turned the knob, making the water scalding hot. Ayden would probably throw a fit when the bill came, but I didn't care. I was pretty sure that his job paid enough money to cover the cost of a long, hot shower.

His job. The mental image of Ayden's naked body and his precise, piston-like movements invaded my mind with far too much clarity. I tried to wipe it away by attempting to focus on the assignment that was due in a few days, but the scene returned over and over again. I whined as I felt my dick fill out. Reluctantly, I gave in and wrapped my hand around it, stroking to the rhythm of their fucking.

I tried to tell myself that I should stop, that I was crossing too many lines by daydreaming about this, but all rational thoughts evaporated. All I was left with was the sound of their moans in my ears, the sight of their oiled bodies molding together, and the scent of sex thick in my nostrils. Their movements quickened, and I knew the director would ruin the scene any minute. Only, this time, she said something else.

"Cum," she ordered, and my body jolted with bursts of semen shooting out, coating my palm and fingers. Waves of guilty pleasure tore throughout my body, and I was helpless in its wake. I steadied myself against the wall, panting. I shouldn't have done that. The guilt tasted stale in my mouth, repugnant even. I balled my hand into a fist and bumped the wall again and again.

A loud knock on the bathroom door threw me out of my dazed state. "What are you doing in there, Cal? It's been ages, and I need to take a piss."

Fuck my life. I wanted to groan but kept it reined in. "One minute."

"No, I'm coming in. I'm dying over here."

I hoped to God that I had remembered to turn the lock. I stared at the handle as it turned, and time seemed to pass in slow motion while I waited. With a click, the door opened and Ayden ran inside. He dropped his pants, and I fought to look the other away. He let out a content sigh, and for the first time in years, I wished we were less comfortable around each other.

"Ay, what the hell are you doing?" I couldn't deal with this.

"Using my bathroom."

"Well, I'm showering."

"And?"

What could I say? How would I explain that I was uncomfortable because I just jerked off to the mental image of him fucking another guy?

"Nothing." I turned my back on him, finally having enough strength to tear my eyes away from something I shouldn't be looking at.

Ayden flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and walked out without another word.

I slumped against the cold wall, still too dazed to care about anything. It was better to pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was a huge messed up dream that had little do with reality.

The water had turned chilly by the time I decided to face the situation. Ayden didn't have to know, and I would never tell a word. I stepped onto the gray tiles and grabbed a towel from the rack with pruned fingers. The soft material felt rugged against my sensitized skin, but I kept rubbing until the raw pain became unbearable. I threw the towel at the wall and heard it land with a wet slap.

Without knocking this time, Ayden opened the door and peeked inside. "You making dinner, or what?"

"Hey, can I get some privacy here?"

"Since when did you want privacy?"

"Since now. Get out."

Ayden's eyebrows shot up, his eyes growing wide. "Chill, man, but you promised me dinner," he said, and left me to deal with shame and guilt.