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Then after arrives. The public chat moves slower. Men leave. The usual thinning after the frenzy burns out.

I sit with my hand still holding my drained cock, breathing hard, staring at him as he reaches for a towel. Clint wipes his hand, laughs quietly at something in the chat, and glances toward the private window.

My body is loose now, almost weightless.

My shame is not.

This is the part that ruins me.

The after. Clint wiping his stomach, pushing a hand over his buzzed hair, breathing through the end of what everyone else came to watch and left behind.

I should close the laptop before he writes.

HotnReddy: You alive?

I stare at it with my face still hot.

Bentley84: Barely.

The viewer count drops to five.

Clint leans forward and clicks something off-screen. The public chat disappears entirely, along with the remaining usernames.

For one disoriented second, I think the show has ended. Then the video enlarges, filling more of the laptop screen than it ever has before. Clint still naked, though no longer presenting himself as naked.

My fingers still over the keyboard.

Bentley84: What did you just do?

Clint reads the message and laughs softly.

“I think I pulled you into a private show.”

His actual voice comes through. Quieter now that he’s no longer performing.

His Clint voice.

My pulse kicks.

Bentley84: You think?

He glances somewhere off-screen, probably at the controls. His mouth tilts, a little embarrassed and a little pleased.

“I’ve never tried that button before.”

This is new.

Not just for me. For both of us.

Bentley84: Did you mean to?

Clint looks into the camera. The question hangs there. He could make it a joke, and he nearly does. I see the habit move across his face, the quick little turn toward sarcasm that usually saves him from sincerity.

“Yeah.”

My hand tightens around nothing.

Bentley84: Why?