Envy and Lust

Envy and Lust

He gripped the binoculars as a man grips his lover. He gazed through those binoculars, peering with avarice, wishing his eyes were mouths so he could devour the sight. His long, ebony hair swept down his back, slithering like a python as he kept moving his glance from window to window, his breaths as heavy as those of the men he watched. Before he witnessed these two men, he believed his capacity to passionately desire died with his lover, but now he knew something could touch him.

And so he watched them make love, using a laser microphone to hear their voices.
"Hal... Oh fuck yeah Hal... Don't stop..." The voice sounded as dark as his, but rougher, ravaged by cigarettes.

He was now holding the binoculars by one hand, the other sliding down his abdomen, slipping beneath his leather pants.
"Dave... Oh my..."

He watched them, the smaller one pounding the larger one into the mattress, the larger one's muscular legs on the smaller one's broad shoulders, gazing into each other’s eyes. The watcher continued his observation, as their intimate position brought back memories of his own. Scott... His own hand continued, grasping his hard member, sliding back and forth with learned skill.
"Hal... I'm getting closer... keep going..."

The watcher licked his lips, head swimming in the intoxicating cocktail of his own memories and the enticing present. His hand kept sliding over his hardness, moisture emerging at the end.
"Dave... I..." The earnest voice couldn't finish.

The watcher smiled slightly at the relative bashfulness of the smaller man, the lack of ease he had with talking during sex... That was not how it was when I was with my big soldier...
He kept his fingers strongly coiled around his shaft, applying pressure to every sensitive spot. His heavy breathing escalated into panting as he got closer to climax.
"Hal... I want you Hal... Don't fucking stop..."

The watcher saw the larger man gripping onto the smaller one, almost aggressively clawing at him, the sight nearly pushing him over the edge, his sharp teeth bit into his lower lip, the pain distracting him enough to prolong the pleasure, his tongue lustfully savoring the blood.
"Dave... kiss me..."

He saw the bigger man thrust a hand behind the smaller man's head and pull the smaller man's mouth down to meet his own. The watcher continued, firmly wrapping his fingers around his shaft, he was leaking slightly, his panting escalated further, growing louder and heavier, a tightness emerging deep within his groin, tightening his fingers around the base, trying to prolong the balancing act that was being on the knife-edge of climax.

And then he heard it. A loud, guttural moan made by the two as their lips were entwined, a moan giving voice to their friendship, their mutual admiration and affection, their indomitable desire for each other. It pushed the watcher over the edge. A noise emerged; higher than a growl but lower than a cry; from his throat, his juices erupting from his manhood. For a few blissful seconds, he did not mourn Scott or Helena; his mind went blank, his whole self given over to the wave of pleasure. And as the wave of pleasure washed over him, it was replaced by a cold, guilty void. He felt pathetic, lowly, knowing that by watching them, he was compensating for his own loss.

I am such a parasite. Proper, no? He thought to himself bitterly.

THE END