A/N: Hey guys! I know, I have two stories that desperately need updating; I'm working on both right now, however this idea came to me when I was reading another story. Something about hearing someone else having sex and this idea sprang to mind. Where it's going exactly, I don't know. This may even be possibly just a one-shot; really just depends on how I feel, I suppose. Also, this is my first time writing any sort of lemon (and publishing it), so tell me what you think. Maybe it can be considered just lime? Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it!
Marvin had an unhealthy obsession.
Almost every night, like clockwork, he could hear the couple in the room above him having rampant, wild, toe-curling, back-scratching sex. It was probably an oversight on the architect's part when it came to designing the apartment complex. Someone probably thought it would be cost-effective if the apartments were made uniform, with each floor being a perfect mirror of the rooms above and beneath it. In truth Marvin wasn't too sure if that was how other apartments were designed, since this was his first apartment since moving out from his parent's home, but at night, whenever the Stud was pounding away at the Princess, Marvin could hear it. Marvin wasn't really one to gripe about the way his apartment was designed. He realized that the mistake wasn't in the location of the bedrooms, but just how easily sound permeated from one to the other.
The fact was that calling down at the front desk didn't occur to him. It did, initially, whenever Stud and Princess first moved in, except he was too shy to actually call down to complain; he was afraid that the seemingly ubiquitous man down there would somehow catch on to the fact that he was gay and berate him over being a faggot for wanting to interrupt a straight couple for having sex before hanging up. So, Marvin would suffer in silence, listening to the two go at it for…well…a hour a most. An hour and thirty minutes was the longest that they've ever gone, according to his observations. Really, the length of time that the couple did it really depended on a number of variables.
Typically the couple ended up in the sack around eleven and stopped around twelve. If Stud ended up working overtime, then they rarely did it at all. Marvin wasn't too sure what it was that Stud did, but he figured it had to be something physically involved. If it was Tuesdays then they still did it, just an hour later since a show that Princess really had to watch came on at eleven and ended at twelve, thus they ended up doing it until one. If Stud decided to go out with a few friends, which he usually did on Friday nights, then he would come in around one or two-ish and the two went at it like rabbits. Well, sometimes. Depending on how drunk he was, Princess may leave Stud with a case of the BB's, an argument would ensue, which ended with Stud spending the night on the couch.
For a while Marvin considered plotting a line graph of the couple's sexual activity but eventually decided not to; what he was doing was already weird enough. Making a graph would be outright stalkerish.
To those listening out there, if they thought Marvin's listening in on Stud and Princess' sex life was the weird thing he was referring to, you'd be wrong. That was largely out of Marvin's power; he wasn't a ridiculously light sleeper, however he more or less required a silent atmosphere to rest peacefully. The wild time that the couple was having upstairs was enough to keep him wide awake. And don't even try to add in the variable of effects that could happen whether or not Stud had mind enough to put some nice sex music on before getting at it.
No, what Marvin was doing was along the lines of peeping tom, instead of using his eyes he used his imagination. After the first few nights of listening to the two and amusing himself with some of Princess's encouraging shouts, he begun imagining the two…in the act. It wasn't too hard to do; his neighbor and good friend Sammy dragged him up to meet and greet the new tenants. Sammy had convinced Marvin to bake some of his delicious cookies. They were a hit with both Princess and Stud (those weren't their real names, but for the life of him Marvin couldn't remember). Marvin remembered that he muttered something and blushed when Stud said that he was now addicted and demanded that he make more (the blush being the result of an interesting image of a shackled Marvin slaving over a hot stove while Stud stood in the background, naked from the waist up, whip in hand...).
He could picture them easily, he could see them in the act. As a man who was strictly interested in other men, he at first found his vivid imagination's depiction of the couple distressing. However, one night, while his mind ran wild, he focused on Stud. He focused on how Stud's muscles would contract as he thrust, the look of pure and reckless euphoria that sculpted his already pleasing looks into a work of art, the grunts of pleasure that he must have made. Marvin became rather turned on. His body was flushed with embarrassment and arousal, he suddenly felt awake.
That first night, without thinking about it, Marvin pushed his covers off, pushed his boxers down, grasped himself in his hands and wanked, wanked, wanked, until he came, came, came! He sighed, realizing that he finished up around the same time as Stud and Princess and closed his eyes, blissfully asleep.
The next morning he awoke, horrified, scandalized, disgusted with himself. He was in a pissy mood as he took a scalding hot shower as he shuffled off to his job. He snapped at four patrons at the library, was pissy on the bus ride home, was pissy when he got home, was pissy when he ordered pizza and was pissy when he went to go pay the delivery man. He went to bed, vowing to never do what he did the night before and slept peacefully, even somehow sleeping through the rampant sex that was going on above him.
The next day he was in a much better mood. He was in such a great mood that, when he lay down to sleep, he'd almost forgotten about the couple above him. Up until he was awakened in the middle of the night by them having sex. His arousal was instant as he once more thought about Stud and he didn't even try to fight temptation. He gave in, creating a sticky mess all over his chest and stomach once more.
This cycle continued, with him at first dreading the night where he would be forced to do something that was so morally…wrong but somewhere in the weeks that passed he grew to like it, he even grew depended on the couple above him. Well, mainly Stud. The nights that it didn't happen he would find himself with pangs of need, unable to bring himself to completion without knowing that Stud had also reached completion. Nights where they did it late, he would stay up and wait for them to get at it, wondering what was taking them so long. Even at this point, Marvin could rationalize his encroaching obsession. Wasn't there a fact floating around that women living in close-quarters tended to synchronize their time of the month? Maybe the same happened with guys; the longer guys lived together the more synchronized their sex lives became.
Ridiculous as that was—Marvin's lack of sex life notwithstanding—that was the answer Marvin would have given if someone asked him about his new obsession. Granted the only person close enough that would even be aware of his sex life (no matter that it was relegated to five very near and dear friends) was Sammy; however Sammy was blissfully unaware of Marvin's activities at night. No, the final point of no return was when, one evening, a few minutes before the start of the night's festivities his feet took him to his closet.
Marvin's closet was as neat and organized as any closet could hope to be. It was well lit except for one dark corner, located in the very back of the closet. He got down on hands and knees, searching for the box that made him blush every time he thought about it. Right now the box didn't make him blush with embarrassment. Instead, it was the flush of need. His fingers found the box and pulled it out into the light. It was a present from Sammy, given to him last year. A gag gift of sorts. The box was a plain brown, with the words Starter Sex Kit (for those lonely virgins out there! :D ) scrawled on the front in black sharpie. Marvin opened the box. There was a miniature booklet; a gay karma sutra that depicted different sexual positions and techniques with two guys with comically drawn characters. Marvin wasn't sure where Sammy had found it and was too shy to ask. There was lube and a dildo as well. Marvin wasn't sure how long the dildo was, but according to Sammy it was "long enough". Granted, Marvin didn't know what that meant, however it looked a little on the large side.
The first night he got out the box, the only thing he did was use his lube and fingers to practice stretching himself. It was odd at first, but by the third night he was used to it. By the fifth night he tried using the dildo. It hurt at first, naturally, but he stuck with it, despite not coming to a completion, so to say. He would simply practice with the dildo until he got bored and went to sleep, partially unsatisfied. On the seventh night using the dildo actually became fun.
Especially when he imagined that it was Stud instead of the dildo that was penetrating him.
Stud was as his name implied; the sort of guy who, at first glance, would make anyone's reproductive organs quiver. Marvin never understood what a girl would mean whenever she would look at a guy and say she wanted to have his baby. That was stupid and impractical; there were a myriad of reasons why one shouldn't have a baby by just anyone.
Well, Marvin wanted to have Stud's fucking baby.
Stud wasn't too tall…Marvin estimated that he only stood around 5'7", maybe 5'8", yet he had such a way of carrying himself that height didn't even matter. He was built; not quite bulky, but it was clear that this guy was a total health freak. His skin was a healthy tanned shade, signifying that he liked being in the sun, and his hair was short, black and metrosexually spiked. His eyes were a dark gray, his nose just a little big but cute, his face handsome, his smile endearing, and those dimples…suffice it to say, there was nothing none-sexy (as far as Marvin could see) about Stud.
He was perfect and he made Marvin's insides melt in ways that were most deliciously volcanic. Hell, the guy probably even smelled sexy.
The first night that using a dildo became pleasurable to Marvin was an amazing night. He stretched himself as the two above him got into their foreplay. Soon they were in the thick of love making. Marvin could hear the rhythmic thrusts of Stud and bit his bottom lip, wishing that it was him that Stud was pounding, that it was him who was so desired that the only plausible thing that could happen was form him to be loved, adored, fucked by the man who desired him so greatly. Without being fully cognizant of it, he reached for the dildo and teased his entrance with it. The dildo felt unusually warm and, as a result, Marvin gasped as he teased himself.
Finally, not being able to wait any longer he slowly pushed the toy into his entrance, reveling in the feel of him being stretched, in the feeling of being filled. Unlike the other two nights, the dildo felt…different. There was nothing to offer any comparison, since this was what Marvin was losing his virginity to; a toy. Sadder things have happened, he was sure, yet he couldn't help but feel a certain kind of self-loathing at the thought of being so unwanted that it came down to a dildo to console his loneliness, a dildo to make the connection that no other male seemed willing to make with him.
He pushed it in deeper, gasping and moaning as he hit his prostate. He slowly pulled out the toy, unaware that he was holding one of his legs up in the air, chest heaving, eyes screwed shut, body flushed. It didn't take long before he worked up a faster pace, eventually matching that of Stud's. In his mind it wasn't a dildo that was plunging into the depths of his body, but Stud being swallowed into the depths of his soul. He could imagine it; he'd never seen Stud naked, of course. Hell, he'd never felt the touch of another man, yet he could no longer feel the toy, but what was, he was sure, flesh and blood inside of him, pulsing with lust and arousal and, daresay, love?
He could feel hips nestled between his thighs, balls of another slapping his own. He reached down and pinched a nipple with his free hand, imagining that it was the teeth of his lover, Stud. He could feel the moist breath, the wet tongue lavishly licking the freshly abused nub. He let out a desperate moan as he felt phantom teeth and lips and tongue feast on his collar bone, on his delicate throat. He felt a hand prop up his other leg while the other hand, hot and strong and reaching and grasping, he could feel it explore his body as their sacred ritual continued.
Marvin cried as he imagined teeth nibbling at his lips, requesting permission that wasn't needed. Still, he played coy, opening his mouth, allowing entrance to his tongue, yet battling for dominance. As the battle went he got distracted by his taste; it was fresh, it was delicious, it was…nameless. The thought that the saliva and digestive enzymes in another person could accurately sum up their essence was ridiculous, something reserved for love-struck idiots, yet Marvin couldn't help but realize that he was tasting the essence of his lover. Or some of it, at least.
Hint hint, wink wink.
Marvin half expected to fall out of interest like he did the last two nights, yet with each thrust he could feel himself coming closer to his breaking point, coming closer to a release that was two days in the making. The thrusts became more frantic, less rhythmic, more sloppy, yet more passionate. Marvin was gasping, moaning, groaning, living. Finally he came with a shout.
Boom, zoom, to the fucking moon, baby.
Marvin realized a few seconds after coming that the thrusts were only getting faster, faster, until he felt an explosion of warmth that spread into his gut, his stomach, his lungs, heart, his limbs, his fingernails and toenails, his eyes, nose mouth, ears, the follicles of hair on his head…
Marvin screamed a second time as the warmth washed over him and filled him. He passed out afterward.
The next morning, Marvin realized that he woke up later than he usually did. He could tell by the shadows of his blinds caused by the sunlight. The shadows were a little longer than what they were supposed to be. He sat up in bed gingerly, still feeling some pain from the self penetration. He pulled out the dildo and, thinking about the night before, reached in himself and felt around. Dry.
"Of course," he muttered to himself before looking down at the flesh colored artificial penis. He tossed the thing away from him before falling back into his bed, crying. Sobbing. He was late for work, he only had one friend in the world, one person who cared about him, he was lonely in spite of that, and he lived his sex life vicariously with the help of a dildo.
He was pathetic.