Wait, Then Pounce
Summary: Eren had always hated the businessman who lived in front of him. Fed up with the man's music always blaring loudly every night, Eren finally had the courage to look at the source of the noise to yell at him and give him a piece of his mind for being too inconsiderate of his neighbors—only to end up staring and watching at the man who sensually danced the night away while cleaning. It became Eren's nightly routine ever since. Twoshot.
A/N: This is just an idea that I've been having for the past couple of months. For the record, this is the first time I wrote outright crude words in a fic. I have never done that—ever. Until now.
I regret nothing.
It wasn't that the college student was eyeing on the businessman who lived in the large house in front of him. It was just that the man's music was always blaring loudly every night once eight strikes, and Eren, who had always been struggling to keep up with his studies through the deafening music, couldn't help but to look at the source of the noise to finally yell at him and flip him off for being too inconsiderate of his poor, sleepless neighbors—only to end up blatantly staring and attentively watching at the man who sensually danced the night away while cleaning.
As much as he hated to admit it, watching the man dance from the safe distance of his balcony became Eren's nightly routine ever since.
On Sundays, it was jazz. On Mondays, it was blues. On Tuesdays, it was punk rock. On Wednesdays, it was rock metal. On Thursdays, it was retro. On Fridays, it was reggae.
Saturdays were Eren's favorite.
Party music. Rock music. Music with lyrics that held too much innuendoes. Music with lyrics that held too much sexual fantasies. Stripper songs. Sensual songs. And a little bit of every song with much suggestive sounds and words.
Eren held in a deep breath.
The music was upbeat today.
Eren lightly bopped his head to the tune that was blaring from the house in front of him.
Last week it was the same upbeat tune, though the lyrics were filled with much unspoken embarrassment if one were to hear it.
He looked up from what he was reading—the dreaded Physics that was sure to kill him on Monday—and saw that, indeed, as he expected, the man who was responsible for all the ruckus for the past few weeks was there, dancing while cleaning his room in all its sparkling glory. The large glass windows showcased all of the room, and everything was decked in pure white cleanliness.
Eren knew him as the guy who, at five in the morning on Mondays and Tuesdays, always made time to jog around the whole neighborhood, and one who always returned at around six to clean the front yard. A businessman, judging by his work clothes once seven-thirty arrives, was Eren's assumption. He never really thought much about it, but by seeing how the man always got home at precisely 6:15 in the evening, Eren assumed that he was a busy businessman with a strict daily routine.
But he always made sure to make time for cleaning everything in his house daily and nightly, it seemed.
No. Eren was not silently stalking the man's schedule by looking at the clock and jotting down the times when he would do what.
He was just, curious—that was it.
The man's room, as Eren observed from the open windows, was spic and span, all white and spotless. No traces of visible dirt when the light passed through the windows. That man cleaned it every day, with no fail, and Eren, at times, felt almost embarrassed at the state of his own room compared to the man's.
Eren looked at his own room and winced. Shirts and books were strewn everywhere. Occasional underwear and socks could be seen, too—and Eren felt the need to close all his room's thin and privacy-lacking curtains whenever he would catch the seemingly constantly frowning man glancing at his room, and no, he wouldn't admit that he could tell when the man was looking at his room. Those were just coincidences, that's all.
He pursed his lips as he glanced at the man's room again. It made Eren feel like a total slob compared to him.
Even so, Eren couldn't close the curtains, fearing that he might miss a night of seeing that small yet mysterious man dancing to yet another lustful song—he would be a fool, he once mused, but caring for his morals had long been thrown out of the window since he first saw those forbidden fruits bumping and grinding on practically anything.
For such a seemingly clean man, he sure could dance downright dirty.
Not that Eren was complaining.
Eren gulped, and deduced that dancing was the man's outlet from the stressful days.
He groaned as he buried his nose back to his book, his mind yelling at him to focus on studying for hell week and simply ignore the guy who was dancing like the epitome of sex on legs, but upon hearing an almost desperate cry from the song—that sounded too much like a keening whine—Eren suddenly snapped his head back, his eyes wide and his mouth opening just the slightest.
The man was still dancing, yes, but not to the beat anymore. The song, Eren noticed, had just finished, and throughout the fade and intro of the next song, the man kept going at it, sashaying his hips left and right in that sensual way of his, like he was born to bump and grind on anything his ass could get on.
And Eren gasped as he saw the man spank the fine thing that was his ass. Hard. And Eren almost whined as he saw the right cheek jiggle through those dark slacks just a wee bit.
He licked his lips. He wanted it to be the one to do it. Not the man himself.
Eren blinked, and he looked away, fearing for the trail his thoughts were bringing him.
No, Eren wouldn't admit it that his breathing was now becoming shallow as he let his dangerous thoughts eat him whole, his mind spiraling into an abyss that clawed at him from inside-out. Thoughts that were wanting to be freed from the confines of his suddenly perverted mind.
Thoughts that were now dying to be released into reality.
Eren slowly closed his now damp book—he had been holding on the pages tightly for too long—and blindly placed it on the mattress, his eyes guiltily returning to the too-energetic man.
To hell with the exams. He would be stupid to pass up on the opportunity of seeing this fine man of late-twenties doing the shimmy in those tempting, belt-less, and open-buttoned slacks.
At times, the man would turn around, his back facing Eren's window, and he would slowly slide down to the floor with one hand up, and would make his way to stand while rapidly popping that cute little butt that Eren had been fantasizing on.
Eren lightly rubbed his hips on the edge of the bed, wanting to get a bit of friction in the heat slowly pooling between his legs, imagining the thing he was rubbing his clothed dick on was the man's—probably very tight—hole.
The whole act looked as though the man was holding onto a pole, and all the while, Eren would stare and gape and lust over the image of those small, yet lean and strong legs, that petite, yet well-toned back, the strength and the force those hands possessed—Eren once saw him wiping at all the windows in his room with much vigor, and he could tell that they were really fast, flexing those pectorals with gusto—
Oh, the things he could make those hands do—and undo.
And now, Eren was looking at him strutting towards the middle of the room, holding a broom with one hand—that Eren failed to notice earlier—and a washcloth with another.
And damn it, he could work that broom and put all the strippers to shame.
Eren had long failed to realize when a new song had come up, all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears as he watched that tempting thing raise and dip his rump on repeat to the beat of the song, rutting that broom senseless as he slowly faced towards the window.
And Eren could see the flushed look on the man's face.
Gyrating those hypnotizing hips as his mouth fell agape to the lyrics of the song, Eren could see a dart of a pink tongue peeking out from the confines of a small mouth as he danced, and Eren's eyes trailed down to that pumping crotch, watching it excitedly as the white fabric of the man's pants shifted to each seductive move.
Eren gulped as the hand that had previously occupied the washcloth was now grabbing onto the candy Eren had been eyeing on, palming it once, twice, as the man tilted his head back, exposing much of his neck as he imitated the pants and whines from the song.
Eren flushed. Though it was only muted by the blaring bass, he could tell that the man had moaned as loudly as he could.
The tightening in Eren's pants was evident now, and he clutched onto the blankets for his dear life as the man slowly removed the first top two buttons of his shirt, and from Eren's view, he was mouthing those lust-filled lyrics as the man craned his neck to his right, biting onto his sleeve as he did so.
Eren bit his lip as the man—who he really needed to know the name of—bended low with the broom placed closely in between his legs, and he slid it up and down, alternating the speed between slow and fast, twirling as he put one leg up, like a practiced dancer, and the man trailed his hand down slowly over his chest, those narrow eyes shut closed as the breathy instrumentals came on.
The man popped his chest repeatedly, snaking his body up deliberately as he swept the floor, trying to finally get some cleaning done, and Eren was mildly disappointed as the sensual moves stopped.
His eyes remained on that pert ass, however, as the man swept the floor.
And then he heard the lyrics once more, and Eren felt the air leave his lungs and felt his skin prickle at the sight of the man now smoothing his hands all over his body, rumpling that white shirt in the process. A small fist worked up to short black locks, clawing at the straight strands as he opened his mouth wide open, clearly letting out a string of whiny and pleading "ah"s as Eren, finally having enough of the man's inadvertent teasing, stood weakly, hissing as he felt his tip shuffling against his now constricting pants.
Eren, who had long removed reason from his mind, swallowed back the saliva that was gathering at his mouth as he went up to the windows and opened them fully—going out to the veranda, letting his ears drown in the scandalous sounds coming from the booming speakers.
It was a wonder why no one had ever dared to report him and his noisiness to the police.
At the deepest, darkest part of his mind, however, Eren was glad that no one reported him.
The man's dance moves surpassed an exotic dancer—and Eren was enjoying and looking forward to see the man dance in his room every night. He would be, frankly, disappointed if that delectable man were taken away by the police for questioning.
And then the man might probably dance and grind his way on the police desks just to be released from detainment.
Eren immediately killed that thought. He wanted the man to be his—and the sudden possessiveness, truthfully, surprised Eren himself. Really, fawning over a man whom he hadn't even have a slightest knowledge of was downright ridiculous.
But then, there was that teasing display of skin beneath that thin layer of fabric…
Eren could feel his heart shiver as the man slowly slid down the floor once more, and this time, that small hand of the man's slipped to his slacks, finally pulling the zipper down, finally exposing the need that was concealing the prize in Eren's lustful eyes.
Tugging on the hem of his shirt to bite on it, Eren quickly glanced around and below, checking to see if anyone was there to witness what he was about to do.
Seeing none—and deciding that he didn't care anymore—he breathed out deeply, his intakes of air coming out in heated huffs as he finally slipped his hand inside his pajamas, tugging a bit on his steadily rising want as he leaned his hand on the railings, eyes solely focused on the gyrating man just a few feet away from him.
The man continued to hump his hips as he glided to the floor, arms waving smoothly about as he kept on dancing, unaware of the person who was currently trying to eat him whole with his mind.
Eren growled, biting on his shirt harder as he watched those sinful moves, glinting eyes eating out each trace of fluid and deliberate motion that the man made—and Eren could feel the small trickles of sweat down his nape as he pumped himself a bit faster, his rhythm keeping pace with the man's moves.
The song came to a fade, and Eren almost whined in dissatisfaction as the man also stopped dancing and stood up to briskly wipe the surface of the drawers instead. It was not enough—
And another tune was played, this one more upbeat, the lyrics more provocative, the bass more deafening, making Eren's blood come to life as the man shamelessly popped his body and did the sexiest crotch hold Eren had ever seen.
Or maybe Eren was just in too deep in the clutches of seduction to care that the man did what any crotch move normally looked like.
To Eren, though, the man's hands were so much full of life, the fingers flicking at each bouncy step as he jumped and danced once more, mouthing the sinful lyrics with those tiny and sensuous lips—
Welcoming this perfect crime of ours
There's no lies, just love laid bare
And Eren's eyes became heavy and half-lidded with lust as the man danced around the room, brandishing every piece of furniture with his sensual presence.
Oh, how jealous Eren was of the desk that the man was humping on.
Eren closed his eyes and focused on the task at hand. Burying his brow on the railings and squeezing himself just a bit, he imagined how it must feel—clenching his hardness in between the softness of that pert little ass. That hole all warm and tight and so fuckable—
Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it must be Eren who will be taken by the gorgeous man.
Eren bucked his hips at the thought, suppressing a groan as he palmed his balls—his imagination leaned on the latter, thinking of himself as the one being taken hard and fast by that talented man and—
He released a sigh as he slid his thumb on his slit. Opening his mouth, he imagined he was taking in all of that clothed meat in his mouth, sucking on it, making it wet and hard with pleasure—
Eren licked and pursed his lips, his mouth watering at the fantasy. He thought of having the man in his mouth, coating it with all the wetness he could give, giving each vein with lavish attention, giving each inch a light graze of his teeth, baring them just the slightest to show them to the man—
And that man will go insane from the sight, and he would clamp his hand on Eren's hair and push his mouth harshly down on his weeping cock, probably hissing at the feel of having met the tip on the back of the young man's throat—
And Eren would feel no pain. No gag reflexes. No teary eyes. No choked sounds and no hesitant hands trying to pull his mouth away with a stifled cry—
He would take all of it. He would gladly take all of it with greed like he was the most famished person on earth when it came to sucking off unnamed guys' heated dicks and—
Eren bit his hand, imagining it as the cock he was fantasizing on. He licked the pads of his thumb, sucking it dry as he bobbed his head up and down.
It was not enough.
He groaned in frustration, and pumped faster, and he started to feel the welcomed and familiar burn in his arm—he hadn't done it in a long while, and it took a moment before he finally kept up to his usual pace.
He missed this. The sensation coursing through his blood. The sound of cloth shuffling rapidly against his arm. The sound of his hand meeting the flesh of his inner thigh. The lewd sounds of slapping skin against skin. The feeling of his now completely erect member—
He moaned, and glanced at the man who was now swirling his hips about, jutting out that delectable butt as he cleaned the room with a vacuum—
And Eren imagined that he was now the one taking reign, grinding him hard on the wall with those lean legs wrapped around his waist, rubbing their crotches together, seeking for a delicious rhythm as their inhibitions would ran low. And they would kiss with unbridled passion and want as their hands would roam on each other. And their clothes would fly off in total dismissal, their hungry mouths not leaving each other. Mouth to mouth. Tongue on tongue. Mouth to neck. Mouth to jaw. Mouths lapping and sucking on every inch of heated skin they could reach.
And Eren would blindly kiss their way towards the pristine white sheets, with him on the bottom and the man on top. And Eren would let the man take control despite being actually the sub. A dominant submissive, as it were.
Really, Eren wanted to know how it would feel to be engulfed in that little hole, with the man bouncing and riding and wriggling and rolling those luscious hips, purposefully tightening and clenching his ass on Eren's too needy cock as he slowly moved up and down, keeping up that excellent amount of controlling that lovely tightness—
And Eren would grab greedy handfuls of those pert butt cheeks, his clammy fingers and trimmed nails leaving red indentions in their wake, and he would spank him—harder than what the man did to himself earlier—and the man would like it. Would love it. Would want more and more of it. Would beg more for it. Until he was a heaving mess on top of Eren, spit rolling down his chin in sheer pleasure—and there was no turning back.
And that ass would turn red. A pretty shade of red and pink. And Eren would knead it and play with it, squishing both cheeks in his hands as the man bounced repeatedly, relishing the sight of seeing his hardness disappear and reappear through that taut hole. And Eren would look at the man's deliciously erect dick slapping against a lean stomach. And Eren would hear moans and whines louder and deeper than the sounds his music emitted.
Eren would touch that man's throbbing want, would pump it and milk it ceaselessly, and he would make him scream to the heavens for more more more—
And he would gladly give it all, moving his hips faster than any dancer, faster than what was humanly possible, mindlessly ramming and pounding into him. And sweat would fall from their bodies, and neither would care as they rode the feeling of building pleasure.
And the man would stop for a moment, halting every movement, and Eren would pant and complain and utter incoherent whining, and the man would suddenly mash his ass balls-deep on Eren, and he would grind it quickly, changing his angle every few seconds, making sure to hit the prostate on each mind-numbing thrust—
And the man, because the feeling was too good, would be panting, and those small hands would claw on Eren's chest, leaving streaks of red down his navel—and Eren wouldn't care. He wouldn't care because both of them would hiss and hold and grab onto each other, and both would desperately meet each other's thrusts, letting their ears bathe in the sounds of obscene kisses and heaving pants, the slick squelches of skin on skin, flesh on flesh—
And their little rhythm would falter and clash, both trying to run after that heavenly feeling of—
And their words and thoughts, long gone wild and incoherent, would hit a new chord as their heads would tilt back, necks exposed and sweat dripping down their flushed flesh. Their voices would ring and bounce off the walls, both uncaring if the neighbors would hear as they would stream jets upon jets of hot white liquid, coating their stomachs with thick come—
And Eren came, biting through his hand, feeling the blood gush from the flesh, stifling his needy moans as he felt his copious release in his hand and on his pajamas.
And there it was. The feeling of mind-numbing goodness. The feeling of his heart hammering in his chest as he felt satisfaction seep in. The burning in his arm was ignored in favor of licking his own come.
His eyes were becoming heavy once more, so he closed his eyes; and, as much as he tried to straighten his now weak knees, something suddenly felt amiss.
Silence.
Pure, complete silence.
Yet Eren paid no heed to it. Maybe the man finally got his cleaning done despite all the dirty dancing he did. Maybe he finally had the mind to realize that his music was too damn loud. Maybe it was time for the man to go to sleep and give everyone a damn good night's rest. Maybe it was time for the man to finally have the gall to stop dancing so much. Maybe he finally turned down his music to take a break and wash off all that sweat that had accumulated on his totally hot body.
Or maybe—
Eren smiled to himself—the fuzzy feeling was taking over him, and he wanted it to last as much as possible. He wobbled as he tried to stand up straight, heavy eyes looking at the man's room once more—
He felt his blood run cold.
There, standing just a few feet from his balcony, was the man he had just been furiously jerking off to—
—who was now staring at him with a small smile and clearly amused eyes.
Eren gaped like a fish, his eyes large and frightened upon being discovered. Now he would be branded as the guy who randomly jerked off on balconies to people dancing dirty while cleaning already-clean rooms and then he would be the odd one out in the neighborhood and then he would had to move out in fear of being taunted and ridiculed and—
All the while, the man just silently stood there, white shirt still rumpled and slacks still wide open, giving Eren a glimpse of white boxers—
And Eren was surprised as the man cocked his head to the right, his sharp jaw being emphasized as he smirked, eyes slitted into a come-hither look and index finger curling slowly, beckoning him seductively.
And Eren felt the blood rush down to his dick once more as the man mouthed the words.
"Want to have a piece of me?"
Eren felt his mouth run dry, and his hand blindly palmed his steadily rising erection.
He found the act to speak moments later, when he realized that the man was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a pale, unmarred, and toned torso.
Eren gave him an ear-splitting smirk, and he mouthed his reply, milking his hardness once more.
"Oh fuck yes."
Oh. My. Gawd. I did it. A dozen pages of nothing but pure pron. I—I think I would go to a corner and fan myself now. In the meantime, tell me what ya think! :D