He rolls his head so he’s looking at the camera again, his expression confused. “Huh?”
“You asked what it says about you, what kind of person it makes you. And it says nothing and means nothing.”
“Really?” He shoots the camera a flat look. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“I can lie and say it makes you a terrible person and you’re fucked up beyond help. Would that make you feel better?”
“No, but…”
“In your fantasies, are you the one being forced?” I ask, not sure why I’m even trying to reassure him in the first place.
“Yeah,” he says slowly.
“You don’t want to hurt anyone. You don’t daydream about forcing other people or wish that these things would happen to people who don’t want them, do you?”
“No.”
“So how does that make you the villain if your fantasies are only about you and what you want done to you?”
“It…doesn’t?” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to process his own epiphany. “This is so fucked up. How did you just unpack years’ worth of trauma in, like, five questions?”
“Because you and I are similar.”
He rakes his teeth over his lower lip in a move that’s way hotter than it should be. “We are?”
“Yes. The only difference between us is that Iama villain.”
He rubs his hand over his cock again. His moan is so soft the camera barely picks it up.
My cock throbs as I watch him give his hard length a squeeze.
“This is so messed up,” he whispers. “All of this is so fucked up, but I don’t even care.”
“You don’t?”
He shakes his head and squeezes his dick again. “Can you hear me when the camera is covered?”
“If I turn the audio on, yes.”
“Do you usually have the audio on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you on campus because of me?” He rolls back over so he’s facing the camera and stares intently at it. “Would you be here right now if I wasn’t?”
“No, I wouldn’t be.”
His smile is soft and shy and makes something in my chest clench in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s not arousal or desire; it’s something so much darker than that.
Something wild and untamed. Something I inherently know I should shove back into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind and ignore.
“That night in the woods…” He draws in a shaky breath. “I really liked that.”
“You can have it any time you want,” I tell him before I can stop myself.
His breathing picks up, and his cheeks and neck flush soft pink.
“If you’re out for a run at sunset, I’m taking that as an invitation that you want it.”