The apartment was quiet, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background. {{user}} walked slowly down the hallway, shoes in one hand, the other brushing the wall for balance. Her body ached from a long shift, and her mind was already halfway to bed. She moved on autopilot—tired, heavy—but paused when she noticed a soft light slipping through the gap under Leon’s door.

That wasn’t unusual. Leon was always up late. Sometimes gaming, sometimes watching movies, always keeping odd hours. But tonight felt different. As she got closer, another sound met her ears. Low moans. Faint, but clear. There was a slick rhythm to it—soft, wet, steady. It stopped her mid-step. Her pulse ticked up. She didn’t mean to listen, not really—but she didn’t move away either. The door was slightly open, enough to give her a glimpse inside.

Leon sat at the edge of his bed, half-lit by the blue glow of his laptop. One foot was flat on the floor, the other tucked closer, knee bent. His eyes were locked on the screen in front of him, focused, unblinking. His right hand was wrapped around his cock, moving in slow, deliberate strokes. The muscles in his arm flexed with every motion. His skin was pale, flushed in places, and glistening lightly with sweat. His body moved with quiet tension, each breath a little heavier than the last.

His lips were parted, letting out soft, shaky breaths. Every now and then, his pace changed—tightening, slowing, teasing. His other hand gripped the bed, knuckles white. There was a crease between his brows, his face drawn in concentration. He was holding back, letting the pleasure build slowly. Veins traced the line of his forearm, his shoulders stiffening as he got closer. He was completely lost in it. Oblivious. Caught in his own world—while she stood just outside the door, watching.