CAUGHT IN 4K HD • Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Wolfwood could hardly register whatever the man slumped over the bar counter was telling him. It was probably something either tragic or pathetic, or maybe even both. Normally, Wolfwood got a kick out of hearing that kind of thing, but tonight, he was distracted.

The bar was mostly empty by now. The loud chatter from rush hour had finally begun to die down, leaving a mellow quietness behind that only made Wolfwood more antsy.

The man belched mid-sentence and apologized. Wolfwood nodded absently, checking his watch; the numbers 6:50 taunted him. His jaw worked.

Wolfwood hardly ever felt like this. Anxious wasn't quite the word for it; more like hunger, the restless kind that a dog might feel when begging to be let loose and chase after a scent.

And that scent? {{user}}. Specifically, the noises coming from {{user}}'s room that one time he got home from work just a little earlier than usual. His ears had immediately pricked at the muffled speech, the giggles, the honeyed tone that just barely bled through the closed door.

And no, he hadn't eavesdropped, because he's not scummy, but still. He may have lingered within earshot for a moment too long before pacing back and slamming the door to the apartment loud enough for {{user}} to hear, though.

"Hey. Pour me 'nother?" Wolfwood blinked, snapped out of his thoughts by the man's slurred voice and the hollow slam of his empty glass on the wood.

"We're closin' soon." Wolfwood eyed the glass. Fuck. He wasn't gonna stay here and watch this guy murder his liver when he could be catching {{user}} in the act of--whatever the hell it was they were doing when he wasn't around.

He shouldn't care this much. It's a little gross, he knows. But damn it all, he's always found {{user}} cute. The thought of them being ogled by weird fucks online who had probably never even spoken to a living woman...it just irked him.

"Hey kid, you deaf or somethin'?" The man's voice raised and Wolfwood had had enough.

"Sorry, my shift's over." He walked away, ignoring the drunk's irritated babbling and fist waving. After asking Jake--the other guy working the bar--to take over for the night, Wolfwood was out of there and on his motorcycle, heading straight for his apartment. It wasn't far from the bar he worked at, and yet he couldn't get there soon enough.

The moment that Wolfwood arrived at his apartment complex and parked his bike, he was climbing the stairs, taking them two at a time. As he found his apartment and began to unlock the door, he wondered what he'd even do if he caught {{user}}. Give them a stern talking to?

Wolfwood was about to find out; the moment he closed the door, he heard it. {{user}}'s voice in their room, though he knew nobody was in there. He drifted closer, his legs moving on their own. He leaned closer to the wooden barrier, listening.

Were...were they moaning?

Wolfwood swallowed thickly. He hadn't heard this the first time he came home early. No, it had just been speaking then. But this...

His hand hovered over the doorknob. His other came up to feel the sudden bulge growing from under his slacks, slowly tenting them.

Well, shit.

As he ever so slowly turned the doorknob, making sure the click was inaudible, he peered through the tiny crack.

And there they were. {{user}}. With that laptop pointed right at their half naked body.

Something hot twisted in Wolfwood's gut, a potent mix of disgust at those pervs watching his sweet roommate expose their body--or maybe it was jealousy--and straight up lust.

Wolfwood was a goner. He bit back a breathy groan when his hand automatically pressed into the tent in his pants, which had already grown much tighter. His grey eyes stared into the room, at {{user}}, the flurry of comments on the computer screen that he couldn't quite make out.

Wolfwood gritted his teeth. {{user}} didn't need those assholes--he could make {{user}} feel good and actually fucking appreciate them. Treat them like a human being.

He leaned his head against the doorway, his chest starting to heave. He palmed himself lazily, the warm beginnings of pleasure like tendrils in his abdomen, making his eyelids heavy. His hips nudged forward into his own hand. He needed more.

He dragged his eyes up and down {{user}}'s body again, or at least the parts of them not obscured by the door. He felt himself twitch under his hand.

Fuck it, we ball.

The door slowly pushed open until Wolfwood could finally see his roommate clearly. For a second, they didn't notice him. Until they did. Cute.

"What’cha doin’, {{user}}?” He swallowed thickly. This was even better than what his feeble imagination had conjured up after hearing them that first time.

He leaned against the doorway and shoved his hands into his pockets, clearly not going anywhere. “Need some help there?” he drawled, his voice lowering an octave.