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finniestoncrane · 1 year

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Without a Hitch

Dano!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 10k commission: eddie meets reader at her work and develops an intense interest in her. and he decides it might be nice to treat himself to a little voyeurism and maybe a bit more... 🐀💚 part 2 here commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: stalking, obsessive, noncon, voyeurism

For the longest time, everything in Eddie’s world was a blurred, amoral grey. Nothing mattered too much to him. It hadn’t mattered in a long time, in fact. Nothing ever sparked joy, and nothing really sparked fury. The cruelty he had experienced in the orphanage, the long-endured pain at the hands of peers, the mockery he experienced at work as he tried his hardest, and the days spent watching money that was earmarked to help the downtrodden like himself being funnelled into various criminal enterprises under the knowing noses of Gotham’s corrupt elite. It had wiped him out. It was all too much. He felt as though he were nothing. He didn’t think he mattered. Nothing did.

Occasionally, only sometimes, a notion would come over him. The idea that something could be done to fix the world, to give him back the sense of being alive, and the power to actually make a change, make a difference. But for much of his life it had never amounted to anything more than his scribbled diary entries filled with pain and violence, to be forever sentenced to fictional daydreams. Nothing more than his lustful gazes into the barred window of the army surplus store he passed on his walk to work and home again from the subway station. One day, he thought, maybe. But he didn’t ever think it was likely.

Which is why he supposed it had struck him like a brick to the side of the head when you approached him. Willingly, too. And with no cause, much to his surprise. Another human, one not bound by any social convention or contract to make small talk with him, had decided to waste their time with someone like him. And, eternally grateful, he had put on his best, most human smile, and used all of his practised lines that were standard in normal conversation. Through sheer luck alone, or maybe because you were simply made for him, he seemed to pass the test. The reward being your attention for even just a few seconds more. And he lingered around your workplace in an attempt to get more of it. He would pretend to be looking for your help finding files and films, pretending like he needed the support of the archivist, as if he needed help with anything. Three times now you had been dangerously close to uncovering what he was really doing with the information for the renewal fund and the newsreel footage of the Wayne’s and their beneficiaries. But luckily, he had always managed to use his awkward charm to lure you away from the truth.

Beyond that first interaction, he had never expected to see you again, let alone develop what he assumed was a friendship. You had asked for his number, he guessed out of politeness. But you had texted him. And called him. Regularly in fact. And always asking to meet up again if he was free. You seemed genuinely interested and while that terrified him, he was more than happy to expose himself to just a little bit of pain as the risk, if the reward was your genuine interest. It quickly became apparent to him that you were kind, sweet, caring. And honest. He soon found himself walking you home, meeting you for breakfast, sharing his latest worries with you. Your relationship, your friendship, was helped along by proximity. He remembered how he felt the day he realised that you lived in the apartment block next to his own. That you were so close to him, it had to mean that you two were destined for something more, together. He considered the logical explanations of course. You were both looking for the cheapest place to rent, you both needed access to the subway system, you were both single, so the tiny, studio apartments in the four buildings on this one corner suited you both perfectly. But it had to be more than that, surely.

In that seemingly destined togetherness, he found genuine happiness and comfort. It was a welcome change from his solitude. The years of loneliness had made his heart ache so profoundly that it felt like he was a new person around you. But he was still himself. Even deep down, there was the gnawing, screeching, desperate need for violence and chaos in the name of vengeance and reparations. The need for control, the lust for power. It was all too easy for him to slip into that thinking around you. You were so unique in your forgiving and trusting nature. So easily manipulated, so vulnerable. You trusted Eddie so much, and so quickly. And that alone satisfied the craving for power he had, even just for a little while. But the satisfaction dwindled, and the more time he spent with you, the stronger his desire for more of your affections and attention got.

More power over you, more exposure to you, more of you. And to him, he was being gifted that from the fates of the universe themselves. Because what more of a sign did he need than knowing that you were living in the apartment block next to his own. That you trusted him implicitly. That when you were with him, you confessed to feeling safer, feeling comforted yourself.

He wondered if you felt it as deeply as he did though. He worried over it, ruminating over the question of whether your feelings, while the same, were actually identical. He’d spend hours and hours at night, unable to fall asleep, but not grudging it in the slightest, staring at the ceiling and thinking of you. Did you think of him? Did you appreciate the way he appreciated you? Of course you couldn’t. He was… different. Different from most people really. He felt things stronger, he deserved more as a result. And as wonderful as you were, compared to him, you were still less than. But you could hope, couldn’t you? You could dream of his returned affections? Maybe you did. Maybe you lay in your own bed at night, praying to some gods who weren’t always listening if they were even there at all, that he would be willing to favour you with his attention, or even his love.

And lucky for you, Eddie felt generous. Enough so, that he was willing to put time and effort that he didn’t really have into favouring you with a hint of his adoration. Though, his panic driven mind and shy nature meant he couldn’t really express it to you outright. This would be something more secretive. The kind of adoration you might not even notice. But he would express his love at least.

A lot of dedication was required, copious amounts of effort which he was sure that you might eventually come to appreciate, should you ever find out, or should he ever express it to you in detail. Each day, he monitored your apartment. In order to be sure that he would have the most time, creating a relaxing and fulfilling experience for himself of course, he needed to be sure he knew when the optimum time for a little visit would be. When you left, when you arrived back. How long it took you to walk from the station to the front door of your apartment. Any kind of inconveniences he imagined would hold you back, and any favourable turns that might mean you were home earlier.

It wasn’t as difficult as he first imagined, given that he actually knew a lot of your routine already. And you were very much like him in the sense that you were habitual. You stuck to a routine. Unwise, really, and had he not been so consumed by his own nefarious plans he would have certainly warned you that it’s good to shake things up every now and then, just to throw potential stalkers off of your trail. He supposed the mention of that might scare you though. No one wanted to live in reality, not like he did. Everyone was happy to be blind to the scary things that lurked not even in the shadows but in the broad daylight of society. It was much easier to turn a blind eye to them.

Eddie hadn’t expected you to be much different, though he did think you might be ever so slightly smarter than the rest of the citizens who tucked up their coat collars when they passed by a crime in action and absent-mindedly held their keys between their knuckles. But there you were, walking down the alley shortcut even without him by your side. At least he knew you were likely to go the route he took you every day, and that shaved off almost ten minutes from what precious little time he might have alone.

As he watched you over the course of the week, he came to realise that he thought of your life as quite sad. Eddie appeared to be your only real friend. Or maybe he was something more to you? He had no doubt in his mind that you were possibly beginning to fall for him. Why else would you be willing to spend so much of your time around him? You were so kind and innocent, it was impossible to believe you had any kind of nefarious intentions, which was usually his go to worry when someone extended even the most minor of kindnesses to him. Like that one woman who had offered him her train ticket which she wasn’t going to use. Was she just trying to avoid using the train with him? Had she planted a bomb and decided that he deserved to die with the others? He was glad he had taken the bus that day. You can never tell with some people. But he could tell with you.

It was interesting though, because you didn’t seem to know or understand him as well as he did you, or even as well as you thought you did. You told him so often how genuine he was, how gentle and polite, how kind and generous, how cute and interesting and funny and gentlemanly. So either through willing ignorance, or genuine stupidity, you clearly hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you, leering with a disgustingly perverted lust that riddled him with guilt. So often he took glances down your shirt, admiring the way your breasts curved and filled out the glimpse of bra that he could see. And any time you were bent over, he was entirely focused on your ass, the way you filled out your pants, how it bounced lightly. And any time he had ever been brave enough to compliment you, you brushed it off, blushing, denying that there was anything about you that was worthy of any kind of praise. You were beautiful. You were sweet. But, you were just as pathetic as he was, in so many ways.

While that should have struck a sympathetic chord within him, instead it only made his heart beat more deviously. There would be less in the way, more of you for him. Every facet of your being, all of your attention, focused solely on Eddie. Truly, that was the ideal end goal here. Not ownership necessarily, but worship. Sometimes, it felt like you did. On your knees below him, staring up at him as you reached for something on a low down shelf as you fetched what he asked for. A servant, a worshipper, praying at his feet. Would you beg for him? Would you call to him as though he were a god? Would you open your mouth for salvation and accept it in the form of his rigid cock resting on your tongue, choking you at the back of your throat? He wanted you to. He believed in time, you could want the same thing. And little by little, he would drip feed that notion to you. Infiltrating your mind, body and soul, all for him. But first, he had to infiltrate your apartment. Luckily, that was proving to be a far easier task than he had first imagined when he set out on this first step of his plan.

On the morning he chose to execute this first part of his cunning plan, he waited patiently for you to leave your apartment. This involved him timing your morning. You would wake up, snooze your alarm, rest in your bed for those ten minutes while you checked your phone for messages or news or whatever you were doing, and then you would get up. You showered at night, he knew that now from conversations, not an easy topic to slip in casually but he had managed it. So in the morning, you only washed your face, brushed your teeth, went to the toilet, put on makeup, brushed your hair, got dressed. These things, he had timed you on in total, but he wasn’t sure of the order you did them, or how long each step took individually. He’d know soon enough though.

You ate toast every morning, with varying different toppings. Another fun fact he had gleaned from conversations with you. No doubt you assumed he was just trying to get to know you better, learn more about his friend, make a deeper connection. Which was true, in part, but ever so slightly more nefarious than you could ever imagine.

Taking into account that you might have to choose your outfit a couple of times, or might be having a bad hair day, or might need a little longer with one of the steps, he offered himself a generous margin for error. After all, he knew you would be out of your apartment for at least six hours this day, even adjusting for those ‘what ifs’ that he had planned for. It was the smart thing to do to provide less time in your space to make sure that it was spent well, than be stressed about the notion of you returning unannounced.

Once he was sure you were gone, he made his way rather casually from his own apartment out to the street. It was a rush. No one ever noticed him before, but now, it meant something. The people who brushed past him had no idea what was going on inside his mind, what kind of nasty business he was planning on getting up to. His invisibility, the fact that he was inconsequential enough to become a sort of living secret, was finally working in his favour.

With a perk in his step, he giddily stepped up to your building, pressing the wood just right in the way you knew would get the old and almost completely defunct lock to give way. And with that, he was inside. The thrill, the anticipation, it was enough to send him reeling. But he held his cool, kept himself under control. If anyone were to step out of their apartment and wonder who this stranger in the hallway was, he had his excuses lined up. Although, as prepared as he was, it didn’t stop his chest from shuddering with excitement, and his breath shaking with nerves. Especially not as he stood in front of the familiar sight of your door.

You had gone on vacation for three days once. The loneliest period of his life to date, mostly because you had managed to worm your way into his subconscious so quickly and with such ease that he forgot how lonely he was before he had met you. You’d asked him to water your plants on the second day. And he had done this, diligently, with great care. And then, he’d given you back your spare key with a smile, even when you insisted he keep it, you reminded him that it was better to stay safe and hold onto it yourself. He cared for you, you might need it. He might drop it and lose it and then who might get a hold of it? You smiled and kissed his cheek. He could still feel it if he thought hard enough. And as you walked into your apartment building, he had held the copy he had cut that morning in his fist, smiling at the stinging sensation on his palm as the points dug into his skin.

He held that key again, placing it into the lock as he held his breath, and opened your door. Rushing inside, he closed it slowly again, quietly, so no one in the hall could hear the exits and enterings. He knew what neighbours were like. Nosy. They might mention hearing you, and then you’d be confused, suspicious. Unless… you had given your key to someone else? No… he couldn’t think like that right now. There was no point in getting angry and jealous when he had business to attend to.

Eddie placed his backpack down on your console table in the small hallway. Reaching inside, he pulled out two tiny spy cameras he had bought on a less than legal and less than reputable site linked to him by someone on one of his frequently visited forums. He smiled as he held them between his fingers. They were his ticket into your mind, into your body, into your soul. And he had already planned where he was going to place them, but it was worth it to take one more look around your place now that he had the time to really explore. He’d been here multiple times, but always with you. Never a moment to himself, to have some fun. Except, of course, when he watered the plants. But he was less confident then, more keen to impress you and do a good job. Scared of messing something up. He came in, watered, left. And got the key copied. Now, he couldn’t care less.

You weren’t going to know he was here. He liked you, he appreciated you, he thought you were wonderful. But you weren’t the most observant. It was likely he could leave his backpack there and you might not even question it. But he was going to leave everything exactly the way he found it regardless. The last thing he wanted was a snag in his plan. So with that mindset, he took a slow walk around the kitchen and living space. It was small, but bigger than his. Nothing of note there. He doubted you got up to much in this space other than eating and watching TV. It was interesting to observe it, but the real goals were the bathroom and the bedroom, as he had suspected and planned for.

Heading down the small hallway there was a door in front of him and one to the side. In his head, he played a silent game of “eeny, meeny, miny, mo” and ended up heading straight forward. Opening the door into the room beyond, he realised it was your bathroom. The scent was pleasant. Slightly sugary, peaches, creams, clean. It didn’t have the bland soap smell that was barely covering the masses of damp and mould like his own bathroom did. Taking in the room, he imagined you there. As he observed the space, he placed you in it. Showering, whatever you used that smelled so sweet covering your nude body, suds slipping over your curves and rolls, like you were dousing yourself in icing sugar for him. A treat to taste.

Opening the shower curtain, he lifted your shampoo and sniffed it, inhaling deeply. Just the way you smelled when he hugged you, your light perfumed fragrance staying with him for the rest of his day and into the night as he thought of you. Placing the bottle back exactly, he turned to the sink, brushing his fingers lightly over your toothbrush. It was such a small gesture, such an insignificant action, he thought. But it felt deeply illicit, almost illegal. As though when you next brushed your teeth you might taste him, be completely hypnotised by it, and fall in love with him instantaneously.

Reminding himself that this was a time sensitive operation, he shook the thoughts from his mind and turned back to the bath and shower. It would make sense for him to place the camera in there, somewhere hidden but with a good view. He knew the camera was waterproofed to a point, but it wouldn’t last with too much splashback. And then he spotted it in the corner, a tiny patch of mould. Typical, every apartment in Gotham was riddled with it someway or another. But it would work as the perfect disguise for the camera. He slipped his shoes off, balancing in your bath on his tiptoes within his socks, leaving no marks, and reached up to stick the camera right in the corner. It was camouflaged well enough. Noticeable if you were really looking, but he reasoned that you might be the kind of person who would ignore a little mould problem until it was too difficult to pretend it wasn’t there. And by that point he would have removed the evidence.

Stepping back out of the tub, he put his shoes back on and made his way to the door, flicking off the light switch. With the bathroom in complete darkness, he looked for the soft blue dot that meant the camera was in working order. It wasn’t too obvious, nothing you would notice if you went to the toilet in the night. Only someone hyper-vigilant or looking for something to worry about might ever see it. Definitely not someone as trusting as you, and not while you were still half-asleep. For a brief moment, he did worry that you might shower in the dark, but he realised he was being ridiculous. So he left the bathroom behind, satisfied with his efforts in there. Now, he had to bug your bedroom.

As he walked to the other door in the hall he cursed himself. This wasn’t really bugging you, that would have required a microphone. He should have got something like that to accompany the visuals. Next time, maybe. When he got paid. This was going well so far, he imagined it would be easy enough to sneak in again and upgrade his surveillance equipment.

Eddie lost his train of thought completely when he entered your bedroom. He’d never been in here before. He never thought he would be. There was something so erotic about it, something inherently sexual about being in the space where you lay. Although you obviously got naked in the shower, and he had just been standing there, it was different in here somehow. Likely because instead of picturing you nude, alone, sopping wet and slick with soap, here… Here he could imagine you naked, soft and warm, with his arms wrapped around you as you slept. It was almost too much for him to think about, the potential for something he could have if he played his cards right.

Taking in the whole of the room, he felt his fingers twitching. So much to touch, to sniff. He had to avoid indulging himself though. The more he touched, the more evidence he was risking leaving behind. He had to pick the optimal place to put the camera and leave. A second glance around the room with a slightly clearer mind, he noticed a picture frame on the wall, painted black and slightly protruding. It would hide the camera well enough, he reasoned. And from the angle, it would capture the bed, or at least most of it. But luckily, he had reasoned that you slept on that side more often, as the night stand was filled with your things, a charging cable, your pill box, a well-read book. And your mirror was on the wall it overlooked also, beside your dresser. So the likelihood that he would get to watch your dress and undress in full view seemed to be a sure thing.

With both cameras finally secured, Eddie was far too excited to linger any longer. He would leave now, with plenty of time to spare, wander home past a takeout place to secure himself something more substantial than instant noodles as a reward, and he’d go home to enjoy the fruits of his labours. Finally. It felt like he’d been waiting for this moment for years. And realistically, with how perfect you were to him, with how much he wanted you, needed you, he felt like he had, even unknowingly. Like his whole life had led up to this point. A reward, for the suffering. You were the prize. And he was finally the winner. At last.

Back out on the streets, he could barely contain his excitement, the sheer unadulterated glee emanating from his very soul. Wearing a wide smile across his face, pressing into his cheeks which in turn rose up into the clear frames of his glasses, he ticked off the items on his “to-do” list and made his way back home. Each person who caught his eye, he smiled at. He noticed it happened a lot. Usually, he was ignored, completely invisible. But now, people were looking up, some people were even smiling back. He imagined it must be the fact that he looked more open. Smiling did that to a person. It made them warmer, welcoming, pleasant to observe. And a smile was infectious. A part of him, though, felt like maybe they knew. Maybe they were looking at him now as a man who radiated an aura that said he could do things. He could achieve his goal. He wasn’t someone to mess with. Because if you did, he would break into your house. He would learn your habits. He could do whatever he wanted with you. So you better be polite and smile at him, or else you’d be on his bad side.

With that sense of imagined and self-instilled, but no less prevalent, confidence, he entered his own apartment. He let out a sigh of contended relief. He had done it. And he was so pleased with himself. He felt like he could scream and shout in complete ecstasy. Because whether or not you realised it, or were even willing, you were his now. To observe, to watch and learn about. Like a pet, or one of those web-chats where the women would do what he wanted. But this was free. And he might not be able to control you, but it was better that way. He hated having to use the voice modulator and speak to them as they soullessly gripped their own breasts and touched themselves. He’d far rather be a silent observer. Voyeuristic. As though he’d walked in on them, and they continued regardless of his presence. Ignoring him in favour of their own pleasure. That’s what he wanted. His efforts today would at least give him more of that than he’d experienced before. And for the low price of some cameras and a day off work.

Eddie took the time to get comfortable in his own surroundings again. If he didn’t think about his worries, then they couldn’t hurt him. He’d just have to focus on other things, and try his hardest not to imagine you finding the cameras and calling the cops and somehow realising it was him who placed them there. Instead, he took a shower, watched some TV, took a nap, and ate his food. By that point in the day, he realised that you were likely to arrive home at any point, so, no longer trying to maintain an air of normalcy, he excitedly rushed to his desk.

From the drawer, he produced the box of tissues and the bottle of lotion he had purchased especially for this occasion, feeling that it deserved something of a higher quality than the stuff he kept under his bed. With trembling fingers, either from nerves or excitement, he couldn’t quite tell, he unzipped his pants and let his soft fingertips soothe over the exposed skin above his boxers. His skin tingled as he brushed over the tuft of hair that sat above the base of his stiffening cock.

He knew it was dangerous, to touch himself already, but he could barely contain the need. With his fist around his length, he began to absent-mindedly stroke himself as he stared at the grainy images of your empty apartment. Just that alone was enough to have him twitching under his touch, and fearing he might be ready to cum before he had properly begun to enjoy his hard work, he let go in a shock, taking a few deep breaths and staring down at his length, bobbing as he panted. Precum dripped from the head, and he tapped it with his finger, spreading it over the flushed tip. With a sharp inhale, he chastised himself for being so desperate. There was no need to waste this moment. He needed to get control over his urges, at least until you were actually on screen.

And he didn’t have to wait long, because soon enough, he could see you entering your bathroom. He looked away as you used the toilet, not because he was squeamish, but oddly enough because that seemed like an invasion of your privacy, unlike anything else he had planned. A quick glance to check you were finished showed him that you were already undressing yourself to head into the shower, but much to his demise, as you stepped into the tub, your rear on display to him, the camera cut out just as you began to turn.

In a quick fit of rage, he screamed and smacked the side of his monitor. He had almost had you, full frontal, every inch of you visible to him as you lathered yourself up. He could only imagine the kind of wonderful display he was missing right now. As he conjured up the images of you touching yourself, glistening and wet, he cursed the site he bought the cameras from. He knew it was too good to be true. They were obviously shit, complete and total garbage. Just his luck. Nothing ever went right for him. But then he realised, it was only a matter of minutes until you were finished showering. Then you’d be entering your bedroom. A second chance to see you.

Eddie waited impatiently, thrumming his fingers against the desk and scratching at the veneer that covered the cheap chipboard underneath, nails resting in the grooves he had made from the ceaseless, nerve-induced repetitive motion. But when you appeared, he was struck into a motionless silence, as though he had no idea what to do. It felt like you were there in the room with him, standing in front of him, wet from the shower, hair tied up, nothing but a towel on. He could picture you looking into his eyes, the image on the screen was grainy enough that he had to use his imagination to get clarity anyway, as you dropped the sheet that covered your body, all modesty gone.

And just as you did in his imagination, you did in real life also. There on the screen, your body, uncovered and facing his camera. He couldn’t make out extreme details, but he could vividly picture the way your body moved, your thighs, stomach and breasts, all of you bouncing, jiggling softly as you dried off.

With a pump of the lotion bottle, his palm was slick and quickly attending to his cock, which twitched in a desperate plea for him to notice it and take care of the strenuous tension held within. To do what he had set out to, finally. His own private show. Leaning back in the chair, he kept his eyes focused on the screen as best as he could, fighting the urge to close them in pleasure as he jerked himself, slow but rough movements that forced the foreskin down over his reddened and sensitive head.

Eddie’s eyes were wide as he watched you wandering around your room, still naked. It felt like you knew he was watching and were doing this for him. Why weren’t you dressed yet? He felt his heart sink, though, when you bent down to the bottom drawer, knowing he was about to lose the visual of you, so speeding up his movements around his cock. But instead of clothes, you produced something long, a cable dangling from it. And it didn’t take much of Eddie’s immense brain power to figure out what it was you were about to do.

Breath held in his lungs, he watched you walk to the other side of the bed, holding the plug in one hand. And he watched you disappear out of frame, only the top of your head visible at the angle you lay on. He hadn’t accounted for that at all. Maybe he should have checked where the free sockets in your bedroom were, but how could he possibly have known he was potentially to be treated to watching you touch yourself. Furious at his lack of foresight, and not wanting to tease himself any further, he switched off his laptop and went to sulk in his bed, dick softening almost immediately. He'd have to go back, tomorrow. It was risky, but he needed to see you. He needed it.

In the morning, Eddie was still just as irritated as he had been all night. He’d barely slept, body twitching in rage, stomach knotted at the denial of his orgasm since he went to bed to when he decided it was a reasonable time to give up trying to even get fifteen minutes of sleep in. He lazily dressed himself and went to sit on his sofa, counting the minutes until he felt it wouldn’t be too risky to leave his apartment and head to yours.

This time, as he walked past the people on the street, he didn’t feel like he was co-existing with them. It was back to normal. He was ignored. Most likely because they could sense his shame. Able to taste his humiliation and defeat on their tongues as his scent wafted past them. They knew he was worthless, and useless, and pathetic. He couldn’t even stalk someone right. How is it possible to be bad at crime? That’s what they’d think. And he’d have to nod and smile and agree and take their cruel words. It was the punishment he deserved.

Not for a single moment did he consider the irony in his deep Catholic guilt-ridden brain that he was on his way to provide himself with a pleasurable experience. Eddie was smart, but he wasn’t entirely self-aware. It was something that occasionally occurred to him, but never long enough that it drew his attentions away from what he deemed to be his more important thoughts. And right now, more so than his deeply troubling efforts to chastise himself through the lens of society, he was focused on finally achieving his goal. He’d see you, have you in his mind, on his screen. You’d be there for his entertainment, he was going to get what he wanted.

At your door, he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and listening quietly with his ear against the wood to make sure you weren’t somehow at home. Nothing, just the tinny echoes of your neighbours gently echoing down the hallway and through the thin walls of the apartment building. So he took out his key and entered. It was nerve-wracking. He was less prepared today. Despite having already done this once, it wasn’t any easier. And he hadn’t given himself time to think of a plan at all. He knew he had to get in and change the camera angle in the bedroom, maybe try and check the one in the shower, although he might just have to remove it completely, to risk the evidence being found when it hadn’t even been of any use in the first place. That would be just his luck.

So that was his first stop. Back into your bathroom, where he could still smell your deodorant and perfume, the sweet air hanging there like a memory of you. He inhaled deeply, not even realising he was doing it, as he removed his shoes once more to stand in the tub. And with that first unpleasant task out the way, a reminder of how close he had been to seeing you fully naked for his own sordid enjoyment, he got his shoes back on and headed to the bedroom. Eddie stopped at the door though, almost as though he were scared to enter. He knew it was silly, he’d been there literally the day before, but now it felt even more like an invasion of your privacy.

It was because you touched yourself. He had imagined you did, quite frequently actually. It was one of his favourite fantasies to play over in his head. But to get to see a glimpse of you getting ready to actually do it? It made the bedroom intimidating. What use was he in your life if you were so used to pleasuring yourself? He felt threatened, intimidated. And for the briefest of moments he considered leaving your apartment and going home empty handed, happy to leave the other camera in your bedroom and hope you never found it, or blamed your landlord if you ever did.

But, feeling defiant, and like he was owed this luxury if you were never going to be satisfied with him physically, he opened the door and stood over the threshold, taking in the surroundings. Your bed wasn’t made, you must have been running late this morning. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, the idea of bumping into you, or entering while you were still there. It was terrifying to think he could make a mistake and end up being caught out. There was no point worrying though, he was here now, and you were gone. His heart stopped when he noticed the bedside table though, covered in energy drinks and a packet of aspirin. You were sick. And yet, you’d still gone out to work? He smiled as he considered how brave and determined you were, his chest in pain as he wished you had told him. He could have looked after you. Or did you not need him for that either?

Why were you like this? You weren’t completely stupid. You must have known, must have realised, that you had an effect on him. That this teasing, making him want you but flaunting the fact you didn’t need him, it was driving him mad. He could feel his mouth turning down, a scowl on his brows as he felt his fists clench in anger.

And then the door opened. And his heart stopped for at least five seconds. Unable to breathe or move or think as he heard your voice, speaking to someone, on the phone he guessed given the lack of another voice.

“Yeah… I just figured- no I’m ok, really. But there was no point in suffering through work with this headache. I really need more sleep. And besides, Eddie wasn’t there, so there wasn’t much point in hanging around… I just hope he doesn’t come looking for me after work… Stop it! So what if I do… You don’t know him… Ok, ok shut up! I’m going to go for a nap. Love you!”

He listened with baited breath as you made your way further into your apartment, knowing you weren’t likely to have a nap on the couch when your comfortable bed was right in the other room. The room he was currently in.

In a panic, his eyes darted around him looking for a space to hide. There was no point in trying to think of excuses, that was a plan flawed from the beginning. He could never face you and try to make you believe whatever story he concocted on the spot. It would be entirely unbelievable, and then everything would be ruined. His efforts. His relationship with you. His life. Everything. So instead, he focused on concealing himself, just until you were asleep, or maybe until you left again. As he searched the room for a good hiding spot, his fingers drifted idly over the pen knife he held in his pocket.

It was a ridiculous notion. But he had to give himself credit. Maybe it would make a good final option. Scorched earth. Commit to it completely. Everything was already well and truly fucked, he might as well save himself the embarrassment. But was he really considering doing that? Getting rid of you? To save himself from a little bit of embarrassment. The least he could do was attempt to hide first. He couldn’t jump to quickly to an action that was so irreversible.

The bed? But what if you reached under it for something, or saw his reflection in the mirror. What if when you lay down on it, the mattress sunk and suffocated him? Behind the dresser? But then he would have to crouch in that corner, and it was doubtful there was space for him. Plus, you were going to walk through that door any second, and he wouldn’t be able to get in there in time.

From the hallway, he could hear you shuffling with your bags and keys, opening the fridge for a snack to bring through with you no doubt. He backed into the wall, somehow hoping that he might be able to camouflage into it, or press himself through it if he forced it hard enough. Luckily, he didn’t have to think anything much stupider than that for any longer, because he realised he had been standing in front of your closet. The slatted wooden doors creaked as he nudged them, and he scrunched his eyes up, cursing himself. You were likely going to open it, but it was his last resort, as he could hear your footsteps closing in. So, as quickly and as quietly as he could, he opened the door and stepped in, standing in the surprisingly open space and holding his breath so you wouldn’t hear him.

And then you were there. Standing in the room, right in front of him. Likely able to smell him, to sense him. But you didn’t, and he was so thankful for it he could almost feel tears of gratitude welling in his eyes. He moved back as you walked past the closet doors, trying to make himself as flat as possible, to hide in the shadows. His view of you was slightly obscured then, but he could make out the vague movements of you traipsing around your room. You kicked off your shoes and aimed them at the closet, the sudden bang causing his heart to leap into his throat, and his gut to twist, feeling like he had taken a hit to it. In a bid to not be caught off guard like that again, he moved forward, closer to the doors, where he could peer through the slats. He was certain that at the angle, you wouldn’t be able to see him. Luckily, whether or not that was true, there were other things on your mind that would surely distract you from any chance of noticing Eddie.

He watched in awe as you began to undress, shifting your pants down and removing your top layers until you were just in your underwear. And then, mercifully, and much to Eddie’s amusement, you removed those too. You stood, completely naked, in front of him. It felt to him like he must have been hallucinating, or that you must know he was in there. It was too perfect. The full display, the way you moved, bending over and strutting in front of his line of vision. But this was all too real, and the threat of being caught held him back from ecstasy. It grounded him. It kept him in reality, the truth of which was that he was risking everything being there and watching you.

Eddie tried to swallow the lump in his throat, his nerves catching up to him. There was an immense amount of guilt flooding his brain, his every sense consumed by it. He wondered if he really should close his eyes. It was already disrespectful of him to have broken in, to have watched you, to have seen you undress. Now, he wasn’t even looking in observation to prevent being caught. This was all pleasure. Pure, unadulterated, but disgusting. He was so ashamed, so horrified by himself, by the way he could feel his cock stiffening, head scratching against the front of his pants, his fingers twitching as they reached for it. He palmed it over the fabric, clenching his teeth as he felt the sting of pleasure, the horror of what he was doing, and the way it made him feel bad. Naughty. Excited.

Of course he shouldn’t be doing this. But it was too late. He was here now. And he reasoned with himself that it was meant to be. Nobody was handed an opportunity like this, let alone him. Someone up there, the God he was so afraid of perhaps, was gifting him joy. A treat, a reward, for the suffering he’d endured up until this point.

As though the universe were trying to convince him of this notion, Eddie noticed that you were reaching in the drawer where he knew you kept the vibrator. The one he had watched in expectant joy as you produced it the night before, when the show was cut short. Now he had a front row seat. Nothing was going to stop him from taking advantage of that.

Through the small slits, his nose pressed up against it as he tried to get as close as possible, Eddie watched you as you lay back on the bed, reminding him of the paintings of the beautiful women at the art museums, the ones that looked soft enough that they might taste like marshmallows, or a slightly undercooked pancake. He was drooling at the thought, not hungry, just desperate to taste you. He let out a soft moan as he watched you flick the power button and bring the vibrating head of the wand up your thigh. Luckily, you hadn’t heard. He imagined you might not be able to over the sound. It was so loud, so permanent. He’d remember it as long as he lived.

When the vibrator teased your lips, you bit your lip, throwing your head back at the touch. Eddie tried to commit the image to memory. He wanted it to be the last thing he ever saw. He could have died happily standing in your closet in that moment, that was until you really started to enjoy yourself. Pressing it hard at the top, the pulsing movements against your clit made you moan, your free hand clinging to the sheets below you. As you sank lower onto the bed, you shifted your hips, spreading your legs wider and allowing Eddie a full view of your already slick and dripping cunt.

Quietly as he could, he inhaled deeply through his nose, desperate to see if he could smell you from his hiding spot, and was enraged to find out he couldn’t. But he was instantly distracted by the sight of you, bringing your free hand away from the sheets and to your breasts, holding them, fingers digging into the ample flesh as you squeezed and grabbed. He was unaware that his own hands were copying the motions, imagining how you might feel in his palm.

Bringing your fingers to your nipples, he watched as you pulled and teased at them, moaning louder. It excited him, to realise you were into a little bit of pain. Maybe you would let him bite you, wrap his mouth around your breasts, let his tongue flit over your hard nipples before he held them in his teeth until you couldn’t take it anymore, pulling at his hair to get him to stop. Pushing his head away and dragging him back in for more, because you found his touch irresistible.

Suddenly stopped in his tracks, Eddie felt a pang of guilt. As though his imagination had gone too far, his fantasy dropping to the floor and shattering, the shards of it reflecting his face looking back up at himself, ashamed of what he was doing. He was pathetic. For the remainder of your session, he resolved not to look. He’d even try his best not to listen. But that resolve was shattered the moment you moved from moans to a mumble, and started speaking.

“Mmm… yes… oh god, yes…”

Your voice was sweet, lower than usual, he could feel the hum behind it vibrating in his chest. Something about it, the way you verbalised your gratitude to your own ministrations, he could feel the effect it had on him as his cock twitched, painful now in it’s erect state, desperately begging for him to grab a hold of it and provide some relief. But there was no way he could do it discreetly, or quietly, not in the state he was in, and certainly not when he heard your next words.

“Oh… yes… oh, Eddie… oh my god, Eddie…”

Briefly, he tried to convince himself that there was another Eddie in your life. That he wasn’t the object of your illicit affections right at that moment. He couldn’t believe it was possible, that you were there in the throes of pleasure, only getting off to the idea that it was him touching you.

Would it be so bad? Would it destroy everything if he came out of the closet then and there, and offered to help you. He tried to think of how he would phrase it, suave and dreamlike perhaps.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m here to lend a hand.”

No, that sounded like a bad porno.

“What a coincidence, I’m right here!”

Made him sound like a fucking magician.

There was no right way to do it, so instead he stayed perfectly still, his heart in his chest and his cock so hard it hurt, threatening to cum inside his pants at the mere mention of his name crossing your lips, trying hard to stop thinking of his cock head crossing them too.

In a surprisingly short time, which he attributed to the inclusion of himself in your fantasies, you were cumming, screaming his name as you shuddered on the bed, hands all over yourself, likely thinking they were his. He made mental notes of the way you touched and grabbed, hoping for the opportunity to put what he learned into practice someday. He delighted quietly in the way you tossed down the wand and rolled over in bed, still naked, your slick on your thighs and over your cunt. It was delightfully filthy, and he couldn’t help but picture his arms around you, his knee between your thighs, feeling your arousal coating his skin, the scent of sex lingering throughout the night. Or would you let him fall asleep with his cock deep inside of you, warming it in your body as you both slept. There would be time to find out. Right now, he needed to figure out how to get out of your apartment.

His legs were beginning to get sore from standing so still, and he shuffled stealthily from one foot to the other, trying desperately to keep the blood flow moving and to prevent himself from toppling over when it came time to leave. Thankfully, within twenty minutes, you had fallen asleep, your breathing deep and slow, soft moans as you exhaled. Deciding it was now or never, Eddie pushed open the closet door slowly, and stepped back out into your room. The early afternoon sun was beating down hard, filling the room with light. He didn’t feel secure. He felt obvious, stupid. On display for anyone to see. But in terms of practicality, he was grateful for it, as he was able to manoeuvre himself easily towards the door, stepping over the various pieces of clothing you had discarded.

But he lingered for a moment, turning back to take another look at you. Without the slats obscuring his vision you looked even more ethereal. And tempting. He knew it was risky, but it seemed worth it, to traverse your floor and make it over to you, just for a closer inspection at everything you were offering to him in your nude repose.

The closer he got to you, the more intoxicating you became. Your scent, your aura, the sounds you made, it took everything in him not to scream, or to whimper, or to burst into tears. Everything he had wanted lay right in front of him, ripe for the taking. And he’d be a fool not to take even at least a little bit. So he stretched his hand out, placing his palm slowly and lightly on your side, letting it linger there, still, before he drew it down along your waist to your thigh where he let his fingers drift up and down slowly, listening to your soft moans, his own choking in his throat as he kept his eyes focused on your face. He had to make sure that if you woke up he could… he wasn’t really sure what he would do. But it would be better than turning around to find that you had been watching him. Occasionally though, his vision dropped to your breasts, and his fingers, twitching feverishly, left your thigh to graze over your nipples, which were hard in the cool air of your room. You let a soft moan escape past your plump, open lips, and he could feel himself losing control. There was little to no hope of him being able to walk home in this state, and he had very few options available to him. So, deciding he’d already gone this far, he removed his hands from your body and eased his pants down, not bothering to unbutton or unzip them.

His cock bobbed freely as it was released, and Eddie was so thankful to have it no longer pressing against the front of his pants so tightly. He rubbed it with his palm, holding it down and letting it bound back up, biting his lip as he positioned himself directly in front of you, where he could line up his vision to where his cock head was in front of your mouth. It would make it easier for him to imagine you opening your lips, sticking your tongue out, ready to receive him.

Rubbing his cock languidly, he let his thumb drift over the head when he reached the top. Feeling the sticky drips of precum, he realised he would need something to clean up with. Looking around the room, his eyes fell to your panties, the ones you had only removed less than an hour ago. He bent slowly, picking them up and bringing them first to his face. Inhaling deeply, he let a soft whimper escape as your scent lingered on his senses. He clutched them, covering his nose and mouth, breathing deep a few more times before he placed his hand in them and dragged them up his length.

Your touch, that was what he imagined. Your own hand, caressing him, stroking his chest as you gripped his cock, tapping it against your lip and tongue before you swallowed it down. Your mouth would be warm. Your hands would be soft. Your thighs would be comforting as they wrapped around him, holding him into you as he… touched you… no… fucked you. He would fuck you. You’d sink into him and he’d make you moan his name like before. Make you scream it, beg for him, ask him for more as soon as he was finished. He’d tell you that you felt good, that you had a pretty little cunt, that you were made for him.

He could feel his heart rate rising, his teeth biting hard on his lip as his movements became more visceral. His breath shuddered as he picked up the pace. He could feel you on his skin, taste you on his tongue. And if he just reached out, if he just took this one step further, over the precipice, beyond where he could come back from… But it wasn’t worth it. The suspense would feel better. The punishment, denying himself that would mean it would be so much sweeter when you offered yourself to him, consciously, with full consent.

As he pumped at his stiff cock, he let his other hand fall to your cheek, stroking it softly. He was aware that the rest of your body was there, ready to be groped and appreciated by his starving hands, but this felt tender. It felt like a connection between you both. He wanted you, he wanted your body, around him and on him, but he wanted you to feel appreciated. And when he really considered it, that was what everything he had done so far boiled down to.

He just wanted to show you how much he loved you. Appreciated you. Wanted you.

You would know soon enough, he could feel that certainty in his bones, in the way his body tensed and tightened, teeth clenched as he strained his whole jaw, trying not to make any noise as he came, his warm cum painting the panties, the fabric catching it all and preventing him from being caught.

Standing still, cheeks flushed with shame and pride, an odd mix even for someone like him, tainted with copious amounts of Catholic guilt, he felt his knees buckling slightly. Trying to keep himself upright, his body convulsed once more, and again, and he realised he was still cumming. His cock, throbbing in his hand, throat catching on the whining yelps that begged to be let free. But he swallowed, them, pushing his fist to the base of his cock and slowly jerking it, trying to finish himself off, which eventually he mercifully seemed to achieve.

Shakily, he tried to control his breathing. He managed to calm himself enough to walk backwards, softening cock in his hands, still out, as he made his way to the hallway of your apartment. Out there, the light lightly dimmer, he felt calmer, more concealed. Wiping the remnants of his cum from himself, he scrunched the panties into a ball and put them in his pocket. It would be risky to take them, but he could hardly leave them. He hoped you might just assume they’d been kicked under a dresser. Maybe you’d tell him about it, and he’d have to keep his face from smiling at this little secret he had afforded himself.

He kept his hand around them as he made his way quietly out of your apartment, out of the building, and back on to the streets, even after the damp of his cum began to seep out and coat his palm. His only regret was that he wouldn’t be able to smell you on them. But having them felt like a reminder, like a trophy. And once he was back in his apartment he produced them once more, taking great care to look around him and make sure no one could see what he was doing, his paranoia getting the better of him. Placed on the coffee table, he thought about what he would do with them. Wash them. Use them again. It crossed his mind that it could be a good idea to get one of those toys, the ones shaped like… but it wouldn’t be shaped like you. A confused mix of miserable and hopeful, simultaneously consumed by the guilt his lust had cost him and the insurmountable pride he felt in knowing your thought of him, the way he thought of you. He had known you were meant for him. He was never wrong.

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