Watching
It's the panting that draws his attention, strained gasping on the other side of the door. As Rolo sneaks closer, he can hear more: thin wheezing, and a thick smacking sound. Lelouch says something that's not quite a word, and a strange tightness begins to spool in Rolo's belly. He inches closer to the door. Listens harder.
"A-ah...." Lelouch's voice is barely audible. The smacking sound speeds up just a bit, and sheets rustle. Lelouch moans just as Rolo presses his face to the cracked door, peering into the darkness. His eyes adjust quickly.
Lelouch is on his bed, pants around his ankles and thighs spread wide. His cock juts from his lap and he has one elegant hand fisted tightly around it. The other is clenching a scrap of white fabric to his face. He moans into it, and Rolo listens to the slick sound of his hand's movements. The late afternoon sunlight catches on his skin, highlighting the shine of moisture on his hand, the gleam left behind when he licks dry lips and stutters a shaky breath between them. There's a tang in the air, something like a locker room and a swimming pool and deeply, deeply arousing.
Rolo's pants grow tight as his own cock expands, and he raises a fist to muffle his own pants. Lelouch's hair looks so soft, his skin so smooth as he strokes himself. The air in the hall feels oppressively warm. Rolo can't tear his eyes away.
The boy on the bed shifts, rocking into his hand eagerly. Sensations deepen, grow stronger. Rolo can taste the scent of Lelouch's arousal on his tongue, can feel the thin breeze snaking its way in from the opened window at the end of the hall, can hear the slippery sound of Lelouch's thumb sliding thickly through precome to swipe over the head. Lelouch groans. Stammers a whispered name.
'He's coming,' Rolo realizes. 'He's coming.' The thought makes his body throb with awareness. On the bed, Lelouch shudders hard, and Rolo thinks he can make out the spurts as they leave the prince's cock, coating his hand. Rolo shudders, too.
He presses a hand against the front of his pants as he watches Lelouch leisurely lap at his hand. Lelouch wraps his lips around two fingers, cleaning them thoroughly, and Rolo has to close his eyes against the sudden, vivid fantasy of those lips wrapped around him, sucking easily and expertly. His lashes flutter, and Lelouch is looking at him.
The air rushes out of his lungs as he backs away from the door quickly. He couldn't have seen him, he rationalized. Not with the dark hall behind him, the door barely opened half an inch. He's still terrified, confused, aroused. He races to his own room, throwing the door closed behind him, and gingerly slides his hand into his pants, sagging against the wooden door as he slips his fingertips through cooling come.