Word Count: 1639
Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation
Summary: The view from Jared's apartment just got a whole lot better.
Written for salt_burn_porn. Thanks to tebtosca for the awesome beta!
Jared sat on a plastic patio chair on his tiny balcony, sipping his coffee and reading the San Antonio Express-News on his iPad while the sun dipped behind the buildings to the west. Even after four months living in New York, he still wasn’t used to the close confines of the buildings; back in Texas there was room to breathe. Here he had a five square foot balcony, barely enough for a chair and an upturned milk crate on which to set his coffee, and the building in front of him was a matter of yards away from his own four-story walk-up.
The screech of tires on the street below had Jared turning his head to see what the commotion was, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a small movement in the window of the apartment across from him through the slats on his balcony railing. The drapes were usually closed on that window, but they weren’t now. Now, they were mostly open, and from his higher vantage point Jared had a fairly clear view of a bedroom, a small lamp shining onto the bed like a spotlight. And on the bed was...a naked man.
Oh, shit! Jared thought frantically, knocking over his empty coffee cup as he jerked in embarrassed reaction. He went to get up and then realized that if he did, Naked Guy would see him. And then he’d know that Jared had seen Naked Guy, well....naked. Okay, awkward. No, Jared was prepared to sit here until Naked Guy fell asleep, or left, or the world ended--whichever came first. Jared had his iPad; he could last awhile. He resolutely fixed his gaze on the backlit screen of the tablet and continued to read. He held out for approximately twenty seconds before his eyes returned to the naked man in the window because, hello, naked man and Jared was a weak, pathetic human being.
The man was splayed out on top of the navy blue duvet like a jewel on display. Acres of pale golden skin gleamed in the light of the lamp, and Jared’s mouth went dry with the sudden surge of want he felt. He let his gaze travel the length of the man, from his finely-arched feet, to his sparsely-furred calves and thighs, to the dark golden curls cushioning a very attractive dick lying softly against the man’s thigh. His fingers were laced loosely together over a flat stomach which segued into an expanse of chest and shoulders that Jared really wanted to lick. And his face - wait, Jared knew that face!
On weekends, Jared always grabbed a coffee at the same little cafe on the corner. Two weeks ago, as he turned away from the counter with his extra large triple-cream-triple-sugar coffee he’d run smack into the chest of the best-looking guy he’d ever seen in person. He got so lost in tracing the path of the freckles dusting the nose and cheeks and earlobes of the man in front of him that he didn’t realize he hadn’t moved or spoken until the guy’s sparkling green eyes crinkled in amusement.
“You okay there, buddy?” the guy asked, and Jared realized what an ass he’d just made of himself. With a hastily muttered “sorry,” he’d edged around the guy and rushed out of the cafe as if Lucifer himself was chasing him. In retrospect, probably not his finest moment.
Then, last week, when he’d gone back to the cafe, no sooner had he walked in the door when he met the green-eyed gaze of the same guy, who was sitting at a table by the window. Remembering his bumbling the week prior, Jared flushed bright red and turned and walked swiftly back out of the cafe, instead grabbing a woefully substandard coffee at the 7-Eleven down the street. Which was just adding insult to injury, in his opinion.
So, not only had he made a fool of himself - twice - with this guy, now he was forced to creepily perv on him from his own balcony? It wasn’t really fair. Jared might have pouted a little as he slouched down in his chair and continued drinking in the sight of the man who had starred in more than a few erotic daydreams during the past couple weeks.
Just when Jared began to think the man had fallen asleep, he realized that the man’s cock had begun to harden, thickening and rising from its nest of curls. The man unclasped his hands and slowly, almost absently began to touch himself, one hand running smoothly up his stomach, the other stroking his upper thigh. Jared began to sweat a little, both hoping and fearing that the man would do more.
As if in response to Jared’s silent plea, the man brought his hand up to his mouth and he licked a long stripe down the palm of his hand. Jared’s cock twitched at the sight of the man’s pink tongue as he imagined it licking him that slowly and thoroughly. He leaned forward, anticipating what was coming next.
The man reached down and very loosely gripped his cock, slicking it with a mixture of saliva and pre-come. Jared watched, transfixed, as the head appeared and disappeared through the man’s fingers, wishing he could taste the little beads of pre-come that formed on the tip. The man kept his touch light, teasing himself - teasing both of them if he only knew it - and Jared’s hands clenched into fists on his thighs as he tried to resist the urge to touch himself too. But as the man’s other hand slipped up and his fingers plucked at a rosy-pink nipple, Jared finally stopped resisting and palmed his own hard cock through his jeans, groaning softly at the pressure.
After what seemed like endless minutes of torture, the man’s grip finally began to tighten on his cock, his strokes becoming more purposeful. Jared’s own grip was unconsciously tightening and relaxing, massaging his painfully hard cock through his jeans as he tried to imagine what the man might be thinking about as he touched himself. His girlfriend? His boyfriend? He suddenly desperately wanted to know what turned this gorgeous man on, wished he could have the chance to find out.
The movement of the man’s hand on his cock abruptly stopped, and he fumbled around beside himself on the bed. Jared watched, confused, for a moment, and then the man rolled over onto his knees.
Oh, my god, Jared thought to himself, and even the voice in his head was a shocked squeak as the man brought slick-shiny fingers back behind himself, just the long tip of one finger sliding teasingly down the crack of his ass, and okay, Jared was only human, goddammit. He clawed open the front of his jeans and pulled out his own painfully hard cock, gripping it tight as he watched the man’s finger slide deep within himself, pushing in as far as it would go and pulling back before sinking in again and again. When the man added another, Jared began stroking his dick in earnest, knowing he wasn’t going to last long, not with this vision in front of him. He imagined how tightly the man’s ass was squeezing his fingers, wishing he could feel it around his cock.
The man was now resting with his shoulders on the bed, one hand fucking himself, the other stroking his cock almost as frantically as Jared was stroking his, and Jared figured he could happily jerk off to this image for the rest of his life. His face was turned towards Jared, eyes closed, full lips parted as he breathed heavily with his approaching orgasm. Jared’s eyes darted between the motions of the man’s hand and the look of bliss on his face and he couldn’t decide which was better. The motions suddenly stopped and the man gripped himself tight as he came in wet spatters all over the navy duvet.
So enthralled was Jared with the sight of the gorgeous man coming on his fingers that his own orgasm took him by surprise, balls clenching and toes curling as he stifled a sharp groan. His head dropped forward and he sat there panting, cock wet and sated as he replayed the past several minutes in his head. When he finally looked up at the window again, the curtains were closed.
Four days later and Jared hadn’t been out on his balcony since. Every time he thought about that night, about what he saw and what he did, he felt a hot flush of shame and arousal. He avoided the cafe on the weekend, punishing himself with the swill from the 7-Eleven, knowing that if he’d had trouble looking the man in the face before, doing so now would be impossible.
Finally unable to stand the temptation, he slipped out onto his balcony late in the evening just as the sun was going down. Sliding down into his patio chair, he resolutely avoided looking at his neighbor’s window. He lasted about a minute. The curtains were closed, as they had been every time except that one memorable occasion. But tucked into the window was a large white piece of paper, the words written on it so boldly that even from this distance Jared could clearly read them.
My name is Jensen.
For a repeat performance, call me.
Below the words were a phone number. And even though Jared knew he hadn’t gotten out more than two words to the man - to Jensen - when they’d last met, he knew he was going to be making that call.