Spencer was no stranger to fantasies.

More times than he could count, he’d indulged himself. Alternative realities in which he’d do and say what he wanted, without the anxieties that so plagued him in this realm. You were a common star in them. He’d accepted many years ago, really, that he’d never truly have you. So, he’d resigned himself to mere reveries.

Tonight was one of many when he, once again, gave himself up to the territory of his imagination. Not like there was much else to entertain him, when for his own protection, he’d gotten himself into solitary confinement. It’s not like he could— or rather, would— stare at white walls, white floor, white bed any longer. He would go crazy or something, unless he did something. And so, he did.

It was wildly inappropriate, he was sure, to be thinking of his coworker in this way. But, you weren’t just a coworker to him. You were, well, you. What better way to fill all of his newfound spare time than with daydreams of you? And, oh God, could he imagine it. If you were there, with him, what would you do? It’s wrong, one part of him tried to reason, how much pleasure he’s devolving from this. But, that was just it. Why not give himself up to shameless pleasure, even for just a moment?