Page 9 of Prey

"Cain."

There it is. That voice, a fucking siren.

I grip my phone so hard the screen creaks.

He pushes his underwear down, just enough to free himself. He's hard, his cock is flushed, leaking, and desperate. The head is wet with pre-cum, glistening in the blue light from the window. He wraps his hand around himself. Slow at first. Experimenting. Like he's trying to remember what this feels like in this space. In my space.

His thumb circles the head. He shudders.

"Cain."

Louder this time. Testing the way it sounds in this room. In the dark, on my desk. His hips roll forward, into his hand. I can hear it now, the wet sound of his palm moving over his shaft. The soft, broken gasps that escape his throat.

His head falls back. His throat is exposed I want to leave my mark there.

Fuck.

What are you doing to me?

His hand moves faster. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps. He's close. I can see it in the tension of his thighs, the arch of his spine, the way his fingers grip the edge of my desk.

His other hand, his free hand, reaches up to his chest. He pinches his own nipple. Hisses through his teeth.

"Cain..."

He's losing control. His hips are bucking now, thrusting into his fist like he can't help himself. Like he needs this. Needs me.

"Please," he whispers. "Please, Cain, please..."

I don't know what he's asking for. But I want to give it to him.

"Please.."

His whole body goes rigid. His mouth opens in a silent cry.

And then he comes, arching off the desk. His release spills over his hand, over his stomach, over the edge of my desk. White, hot and everywhere.

He collapses forward. Breathing hard as his Forehead pressed to his knees. His body is shaking. I watch him come back to himself. Slowly, he lifts his head. Looks around the office like he's seeing it for the first time.

Then he looks down at himself. At the mess on his stomach. On my desk.

What are you going to do now, Grey?

Are you going to clean it up? Are you going to leave it? Are you going to...

He smiles, then he stands up. Pulls his underwear back up followed by his other clothing then walks to the door, pauses, turns back to look at my office one more time.

"Tomorrow," he whispers. Then he's gone.

I sit in the dark stairwell for a long time. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking. I'm hard in a way I haven't been in years, aching, almost painful. I look down at my phone. The camera feed shows an empty office. But I can still see him there, sprawled across my things. Saying my name like it meant something.

"Please, Cain, please..."

I close the feed and open a different file. The audio folder. I scroll to the recording from tonight. Hit play. His voice fills the stairwell.

"Cain... please... Cain, please..."

His gasps, his moans. The wet sound of his hand moving over his cock. I listen to the whole thing.