Silas Rootwell

Your apartment seemed awfully hot and dry recently, but the amount of dust in the air was a completely different thing. Opening the windows or using the air-conditioner didn’t help, especially the latter. While you were checking it you discovered that for some reason it blew hot air out, instead of cold air, which arguably made no sense - it was broken. The repairs would probably cost too much, but it was unbearable in the living room with this heat, so after thinking for a while, you made the decision to call a repair man, hoping that it wouldn’t be too expensive

Just then it hit you - your neighbour, a middle aged boar man, supposedly works as a repair man, so repair of air-conditioners should be a part of his job, right? So with that thought you decided to go online, to find some information about the companies around, and the cost of work on the air-conditioner

Silas day started pretty slow, but still as early as usual. At 8:30 AM - he was awake some time ago, currently he was in the office, doing… basically nothing. Today was quite dry on the calls, an old lady called in about her broken fridge, Derek answered the call, the seal got lucky with a timely job and left for it. Peter left soon after him, someone’s drainage system broke and their apartment got flooded with… “water”, so unfortunate for the owner of that place

It seems that today Silas pulled a short end of the stick and ended up having nothing but small repairs to do. Now after the day has passed it was late evening, around 7:40 PM and he received a call, just 20 minutes before closing! When he picked up an old-styled landline(Derek’s request to have one like this), the voice he heard on the other side… stunned him completely - it was Zahin. At first the boar man nearly jumped in panic, almost dropping the damn phone, but then he collected himself. Answering the call he tried to not breathe too much into the dynamic and got the request. He can not get into Zahin’s apartment… This is perfect

He drove back into the apartment complex with a big, almost manic grin on his face, his hands were sweaty on the wheel. Before returning back he stopped at a tech store, buying three small cameras and SD-cards for them, he was ready. It is a dangerous mission, but it is so worth it!

Some time later the eager handyman was already knocking on your door, his large hand making it almost shake, from perhaps a bit too eager knocks. And then finally, Zahin opened the door… Behind it stood a pretty short (from age of course!) boar man, in his left hand his trusty old toolbox, the one that his father used to have, in his right hand was a shopping bag, from the design it seemed to be from a tech store, probably parts for replacement and fixing! Right…? “Ngh – howdy, neighbor. Service call, right? Heard yer AC died… Silas can fix it.” Silas paused in his speech his gaze slowly going over your body, his breath fastens just for a moment before he returns to reality “Prob’ly the darn thermostat – they always break. Lemme jus’… He suddenly paused, to take a sniff of the air around you ”…take a peek real quick.”

After you moved to the side, to let the large man inside, he stepped carefully, his heavy frame making a couple of floorboards squeak. Each step Silas took was both carefully measured and completely uncontrollable, his heart pounded in his broad chest. This is it, the moment, finally he doesn’t need to leave a dictaphone under the rug of your apartment’s door, or in that balcony hole, no, not anymore. Now he has full access to a real, full view… Of your living room, well, not the best room, but he wasn’t choosing, although the bedroom would be way better, or even–

Silas forced himself to move these thoughts to the side (for now), and focus on the repairs, and how he would carry out the plan - installing the hidden cameras. He carefully found himself a small stool to stand on, and started to “repairs”. He figured out the problems in a couple of minutes - it was the thermostat. Of course he was prepared for this, with his years of experience he already figured out what replacement to buy before even seeing the model, how convenient... The first camera was taped on the edge of the air-conditioner unit, just perfectly to view the couch. When you left him to work, he used that time to set another camera, this one on the side of the coffee table, this one was shameless, clearly meant to be focused of a specific part of your body. The third camera was installed perhaps too fast, just over the entrance door, so he would always know when you are gone and when you are back. His free hand kept drifting to the insides of his pocket, knuckles grazing the fabric of his work pants like he was soothing a persistent itch – never lingering, never obvious, but always circling back to it, leaving himself on edge. Now that he was done, finishing up replacing the thermostat he stepped down from the stool and got an idea… “Ngh – all fixed, neighbor. Yer place’ll be frosty now… thermostat’s workin’. Ain’t need cash er nothin’… He sniffs the air again, this time it was clear it wasn’t the air of the apartment, but of you ”Jus’… holler if ya hear weird noises again, ‘kay?"

Today was Sunday - laundry day. Your only day off this week. It was a rough week this time around, your work squeezing every last bit of energy out of you, and replacing all of it with tiredness and a constant, nagging, feeling that this is all pointless. But, wearing good smelling clothes was more important than bringing yourself down even more. So that’s what you did

Silas had the exact same idea, well maybe it was slightly different. Secretly he hoped that Zahin would choose today, as the day they they do laundry too. The reason? Quite obvious, to steal a part of their clothing, preferably something of the “undergarments” variety

He was already down, in the basement, where the apartment’s laundry room was, it was quiet and a pretty dark place, a place where no one would want to spend extra time, but Silas wasn’t like that, he was doing it on purpose. He was waiting for Zahin.

And luck was on his side today, because suddenly, Zahin joined him in the laundry room, their own basket in hand, perfect, now he only needed for them to leave. He didn’t dare to speak yet, he didn’t need to. Surprise to him soon enough, Zahin just left, maybe they forgot something in their room, maybe something else, it didn’t matter. The basket with dirty laundry was still there, in place, it contents what Silas needs the most

The fluorescent lights’ humming suddenly became louder as Silas, at first, pretended he was folding a towel, keeping a normal act for his own sanity, his small round ears twitched as Zahin’s footsteps fully retreated. He walked over to the door and clicked it shut, leaving the only sound inside a rumble of dryers and his own breathing. His snout quivered in a sniff as he stared at the forgotten basket, it stood right atop a folding table, just for him…

He waited five ragged breaths, sweat beading under his collar and on his temples, before with almost shaky steps stepping over to it. His calloused large hands shook as they dug inside it, past jeans, crumbled t-shirts, stopping when his thick fingers brushed against something… An elastic band of boxer briefs! They were worn out, gray, fabric softened by countless washes, yet now, still steeped in your essence

Silas snatched them up in an instant, pressing the cotton to his snout so hard, he almost sniffed part of the cloth into his snout, his bridge ached. It was sharp… It was male sweat and the earthy tang of hard work. An alien sound escaped him – half whimper, half growl – as he stumbled into the darkest corner of the laundry room. He didn’t bother undoing his pants. Instead, he wrapped the boxers around his snout like a muzzle, knotting the waistband tight behind his head. The cotton grew damp with his panting, every inhale flooding his nostrils, they were filled with you – salt, skin, and a faint metallic tang of his own desperation. His eyes rolled back, legs braced against the concrete as his hips began jerking in short, violent thrusts against… empty air.

Friction. He needed friction. But he denied himself, letting the fabric ride up on his snout, until the faintly damn boxers sealed over his nostrils. His tongue lapped hungrily at the cotton, craving the bitter sting of masculinity inside him… (huh). His spit soaked the fabric. Cock strained against denim, weeping deep shame onto his belly, but he gripped the waistband tighter, not yet, not yet, he denied himself, letting the ache coil until his vision swam. But he had to stop when he suddenly heard a noise approach the room…