It was the last thing he ever expected to emerge from her door. Raven's door of all places. Richard knew he had to be hearing things. Hallucinating maybe. The Tower certainly was drafty. That was the only explanation for it. It was the middle of the night after all. He could probably chalk it up to sleepwalking. Or maybe he was imagining things. He could still turn around, get that glass of water and go back to bed. Pretend he never heard anything. He was fully prepared to. When he heard it again, another spine-tingling and toe-curling feminine moan. That made him stop in his tracks, mouth agape. There was no denying it. Oh god. She wasn't, was she? She couldn't possibly be... He had stopped breathing by now. Listening as hard as he could. Pressing his ear to the wall outside her room. Moving to where the sound was the loudest. And then he heard them, the curses and gasps as she exhaled. The bed squeaking gently.

She was.

What a rare and unexpected treat to have stumbled upon.

He didn't even know that this was something she did. Getting herself off. And in the middle of the night, no less. He hadn't really considered it. Although now in hindsight, he should have figured. She needed release, just like the rest of them. If not more. For her alone time, it made sense that Raven would pick a time to give herself maximum privacy. To avoid curiosity like his own. Honestly, he should have known. He just couldn't have ever known that he would get to witness her doing it - in any manner or form.

As he stood there, face pushed up to the plaster, body perfectly adjacent to the walls, craning his neck, all in an effort to hear better, he wasn't embarrassed. No. He realized he just couldn't stop himself. Richard found that he simply couldn't tear himself away. Her moans were like music. Like there was a symphony of sounds coming to life. An orchestra of harps and violins weaving melodies just beyond those doors. And she, the conductor. He just had to hear more. He had to. It was like his feet were glued to the floor now. With each creak of the bed and breathy sigh, he could feel his desire to respect her privacy whittling down... and down...into nothing. His resolve was crumbling. Into a fine powder. Into dust. The more he listened, the more he couldn't deny what he not-so-secretly yearned for.

To be invited in and bare witness to the spectacle.

It was beginning to get uncomfortable to stand. His pants had started getting more restrictive. Confining him. They grew tighter and tighter. He shifted his body, then his clothes. Trying with no luck to stave off his desire. His throbbing, aching need. Until he couldn't take it. He started rubbing himself through his pants. He could hear her low voice coming in louder now and he tried to picture it. As though there were no walls separating the half-demon from his rapacious gaze. Keeping her hidden from him. And he could almost envision it. Raven in the act. Her silhouette, as she laid down. Legs dangling in front of her while she played with herself. She was probably using one hand to caress the curves of alabaster skin. With her fingers of her opposite stroking and spreading her elixir all over her swollen sex, her hips moving sensually to her own rhythm, as she stimulated her clit. He could tell by the speed of the creaks and intensity and timing of her moans that she was building up. To something.

It seemed she was getting close.

This was almost too much to bear.

Richard imagined her fingers were flitting back and forth faster and faster. In time with her body's movements. And those silken thighs were undoubtedly quaking. She groaned out unabashedly and unrestrained in her orgasm. And cried out for something he couldn't quite make out. He had been right after all. She had been finishing up. He heard her little pants and whines, as she came down from her high. He was still pondering. Curious about what she looked like right about now. After the act. Her hand, most likely, was still between her legs, glistening with her recently spilled juices. Maybe she would even go for round two. He bit his lip, feeling his nether regions swelling and springing at the imagery he created.

And God was he dying to know what it would be like to give that to her.

To be the one to make her moan.

It was enough to drive him over the edge. He had to take care himself properly, before he lost it.

He went back to his room and locked the door. He shed his pants in a heap, and threw them across the room. He needed relief and he needed it now. And he took himself in his hand. Masturbating furiously. Stroking himself up and down. More intensely than he could remember doing. It wasn't long before he was cursing. And once again, envisioning her body writhing into all sorts of arousing positions, as she touched herself. Then, his thoughts went deeper. She was undressing, just for him. Revealing that pearly flesh, bathed in moonlight. Hell, if she moaned that much at her own touch. He could only imagine. How loudly she would moan, if he touched her. He could picture her hands again, sliding quickly over those slick, pink folds. Spiraling over her pink gem with precision. Then, he fantasized about his hands all over her. Stroking that soft, beautiful skin. Those perfect curves. Fingering her. Kissing her everywhere. Tasting every inch of her. Leaving bites on her. Marking her.

Richard could almost see it. It was so real. The vivid image he was illustrating in his head. Now he saw her touching him. Trailing her lips on his body. Taking his member in her hands. Or her full mouth. Brushing her naked body on his. He moaned. Oh God. Oh fuck. His teeth were clenched. He wasn't going to last long. Then, all of a sudden. Something in his desire-laden mind clicked. He realized: he had figured it out. What she had said earlier. He knew now... She had said his name, when she came. She had been touching herself, while thinking of him. He tumbled over the edge. Grunting her name in turn, while his hands moved vigorously over his shaft. He was seeing nothing but stars now. And the lights behind his eyes, as the room became a blur. He shook as he burst. Deflating breathlessly. Richard's chest heaved. As he laid back on his bed, coming down from the high. He hadn't come this hard from touching himself alone before. It was because of her. He had gone crazy - berserk with these fantasies. And these thoughts. Thoughts of her.

All that he had heard her doing earlier.

He shouldn't be thinking of her this way. Not his teammate. Not her. He was her leader. And she was his...Raven. His best friend. Sweet, innocent, gentle, Raven. But he couldn't stop. Fetching and fascinating Raven. With a flawless figure and an even more perfect face. He was still imagining what she looked like in the throes of pleasuring herself, with the sweat glittering all over her. Her hardened nipples. Her fingers blurring as they slicked over her womanhood.

There were so many things to consider. For instance, did she masturbate in the nude or in something barely there? Like a blue satin slip or a silky teddy, perhaps? With the straps falling down around her milky white shoulders, cleavage slowly exposing and jostling back and forth, as her fingers moved faster and faster. Or maybe she did it in her bra and panties. He liked the thought of her in a dark lace. Sheer possibly. Maybe she just wore what she slept in. Did she wear silk pajamas or... a t-shirt and shorts? And when she touched herself, did she just tuck her hand into the nightclothes? Or maybe remove an article. He liked the thought of her half naked. Topless or bottomless? He didn't mind either way. Or, he wondered darkly, she simply sneaked a hand beneath that leotard of hers and started to go to town. That last one was enough to make him hard again. His mind was filled with endless possibilities.

It was going to drive him insane.

So insane that he could not stop.

And so he found himself waiting up for her. For it to start. To hear his favorite nightly scheduled program. Raven's Release. As he so fondly referred to it. He went on like this for a few weeks. Snooping in on her most private moments in her room. Listening to her until she went over the edge and then going back to his room to fall over with her. Grabbing at his throbbing hard-on. Wanking off so ferociously, he was still surprised he had feeling in his left hand. It was fast becoming his new guilty pleasure. His dirty little secret. Getting an earful of her illicit, solo affairs in the night. But God it was torture. The most pleasurable kind of torture.

He knew he wasn't sure how long he could continue like this. It was driving him insane. But he couldn't stop. Still he went on, enjoying and sharing in her pleasure from afar, whenever possible. He knew he would go to hell for this, but he realized he no longer cared for the consequences.

For the first time he thought, screw boundaries and screw the rules.

Just like before. Just like he had always known.

If it was Raven, he didn't care.

He was willing to burn.

A/N: So I just started writing this and I couldn't stop. I don't know what to even call this, I haven't ever written anything quite like it. It's basically porn with no plot, but hey! There it is. And another pretentious French title to boot. Like I said, I couldn't stop myself. I really hope you enjoyed it!

And there is certainly more to come. I mean it when I said I couldn't stop writing, so the story it's actually almost done at this point! (Pretty crazy right?!) I wonder if I should rattle off some of the music that inspired me... I was on a hell of a writing kick this week! But yes, chapter 2 is on the way, there is no question I am continuing this one. Feel free to check out my other works if you like this one! :)

And of course check out my tumblr: shewhowillnotbenamed1