Misery – Chapter 1

Samuel knows it's wrong. Knows he shouldn't do it. But the walls are thin and he just can't help it. His neighbors fuck every single day without fail, some days up to three or four times, and it's almost appalling to think that he's already memorized how each of their moans and grunts sound like, how their names – Keegan and Tyler – sounded between pants and whimpers. He works at home as an illustrator for a semi-successful magazine firm, gets paid just enough that he's got money in the bank so realistically, instead of staying in a broken-down apartment, he could've moved to a bigger and much nicer condominium that he can easily afford. He wouldn't have to worry about the drug dealer next door or the risk of someone barging in and pointing a gun at his face or the paper thin walls between each door.

But.

If he moves – he won't be able to hear his neighbors fucking again.

Which is a creepy thing to say, he knows. He's quite horrified at the realization himself, couldn't believe he's swooped so low to become this kind of pervert. But it's been two entire years already from when they first moved in and it's gotten to the point where he can't even jerk off without hearing their moans – hell, now he gets hard by the mere sound of their voice. And the fact that they're both strikingly gorgeous doesn't help his already growing crush on them.

He knows it's sick – he's a 28-year-old virgin who gets hot at the sound of his neighbors having sex. Thinks how it would be like if he's the one fucking Keegan – or if both Keegan and Tyler were fucking him, Tyler up his ass, Keegan in his mouth, or maybe both in his hole or, or – how it is if they even allow him to watch. He's contemplated drilling a hole so he can peep, just a tiny one, but that's going too far even for him. For now he's content using his imagination and makes sure he doesn't let his voice out by pressing his face on his pillow while he fingers himself open. Embarrassingly enough he's almost always the first one to come which makes him feel like the most miserable guy in the entire universe. He's pretty sure he is.

But by now he's learned to accept that. He's always been an outcast, always been a little too weird, and into strange things. The type to collect bugs, probably the same type who goes into the girl's locker room to steal panties. He sure feels like them, those despicable fucks who gets their faces shoved in a toilet and beat up for being a creep. So it's better this way, not making himself be known. Or else he'll get reported for…sexual voyeurism? Is it still called that way even if he's only listening through the walls? Probably. He can't take the risk.

He comes for the nth time that day to the sound of them having sex - Friday is both their days off and all they've done is eat take out and fuck - and he hears Tyler faintly say, "Lick it clean, darling." and Samuel knows its meant for Keegan but he still stares at his sticky hand before doing just that, presses his tongue on his palm and licks it away. He doesn't scold himself for following orders that aren't for him anymore. He wants to die. On the same breath, Tyler says Good boy, good boy, I love you, and he feels like he did.

He hates himself so much for hoping.


It's around 9 in the morning when he hears Keegan's screams coming from the living room wall across the kitchen. It makes goosebumps rise from his flesh, his heartbeat sky rocketing when he begins yelling "Stop! Help me! Someone please – he's going to hurt me!" Tyler's voice trying to subdue him, sounds of struggling, sobbing, Keegan begging to please DON'T BURN ME AGAIN

"Oh my god," Samuel whispers. He needs to do something. He needs to – what? What should he do? Kick the door to their apartment, fight off Tyler who's 6'2 of pure muscles and tattoos, pull Keegan out of there, be his hero?

Then what?

He's going to get killed. Tyler will take one look at his puny little body and snap him in two.

What should he do, what should he do?

Eventually the yelling stops and Samuel is left wide-eyed and shaking, leaning against the wall on the floor. He covers his face in absolute horror – two entire years and Tyler never showed his kind of violent behavior towards his boyfriend. Never made Keegan yell like that. Are they doing a roleplay? But…at nine in the morning? Tyler's going to work soon, it's a weekday, they never do roleplays this early and Keegan's distress seemed genuine. He can't hear what the Tyler was saying when he tried to calm him down, drowned out by Keegan's screams, but he knows this isn't normal.

He stands up, and finds himself rock hard.

"Why…?" he asks himself – as if expecting his junk to explain why it's reacting this way. His blood runs cold. He can't believe this. He can't fucking believe this. He's the worst person who ever lived.

He unzips himself right there, in the middle of his living room, grips his cock so hard it hurts and rubs it in quick, successive strokes. It didn't even take him long before he's coming, spurts right into his floor like an actual scum. Presses his fingers on his lips. Thinks of Tyler saying Good boy, good boy, wishes he can approach them both, wishes he can ask them for a threesome even if it meant paying them. Wishes he isn't so damn fucking pitiful.