Pathos - A Duskwood Fanfiction

Chapter 30 - sexual content warning

In room #6 of the Duskwood motel, she lay on the bed in silence, clutching one of the bed's pillows to her chest while the rest of her body curled around it in the fetal position. She was supposed to be getting ready to leave and meet Lilly, Jessy, and Phil at the Aurora, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Not yet.

She had her face buried into the soft, pliable fabric of the pillow, breathing in slow, deep breaths as she pulled Jake's scent as far into her lungs as she could before exhaling and doing it again. She could smell his body wash and aftershave on the fabric, an intoxicating blend of earth and spice, and when she breathed in especially hard, she could almost detect the smell of his skin.

She was counting again. Always counting, it seemed, when it came to Jake. He had only been gone two days, but somehow the counting and the waiting seemed unbearable this time. She had spent the days in relative silence, only going outside to eat before returning to the empty, weird sanctuary of his motel room as soon as she was able to.

It was an uncomfortable and disorienting sensation each time that she came back inside the room from being outside, or when she awoke from her fitful attempts at sleep - she was in someone else's room, waiting for them to return. The liminal quality to the place was disquieting, but she couldn't bear to be anywhere else, either. She needed to stay there, needed to be there when he returned.

If he returned.

She had spent the two days sitting on his bed, staring at the door, waiting. When that had become too exhausting, she had allowed herself the indiscretion of exploring the room as respectfully as she could, looking for signs of him where she could find them. She had sat for a while in the desk chair, staring at the blank monitor screens sitting on the desk, imagining how he must have looked as he had sat their during their ordeal, typing in the artificial glow of the monitor screens.

She had run her fingertips lightly over the disconnected keyboard in front of the monitors, allowing them to rest on the keys that, statistically, she knew he had to use most often, trying to feel the essence of him as she closed her eyes and waited for the feeling. When her imagination became too much, when it hypnotized her with the mental images of his eyes reflecting the monitor screens lights as he had typed to her, she had gotten up and paced around the room, feeling strangely desperate.

Her biggest mistake was going into the washroom. She had initially gone in for a piss, but then had spent about an hour staring at the shower, the glass enclosure of it still dotted with glistening drops of moisture left over from his last shower. She had opened the shower door slowly, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and body wash as it wafted out and around her. She had stared at the water droplets on the shimmering glass of the door, watching the light catch and glitter off of them before reaching out a finger to catch one, feeling its cool wetness sliding down her skin.

The mistake came when she saw the movement of the droplet on her skin, watching with fascination as it slid, lost in the imagining of what it would look like if it had been on his skin instead. She could see it as it made its slow, languid way down his chest, slipping between and merging with the countless other drops that adorned it; she wondered what it would taste like if she had caught it with her tongue as it wove its way off of his pectoral muscles. Would it taste like shampoo and body wash alone? Or would she be able to taste his skin? His sweat?

That was a silly thought, she remembered thinking as she had stood in silence, staring at the trail of moisture on her skin. He wouldn't be sweating in the shower. It would be washed away instantly. And also, why would he be sweating in the shower in the first place? What could he have done that would have been so strenuous? Stupid thought.

But then she had imagined the water dripping down his abdominal muscles, watching in transfixion as it fell ever lower, maybe to a treasure trail? Would he have one? Did he like to shave down there? What would his cock look like, as the water from the shower pelted down? Would he get hard? Would he already be hard, taking the shower specifically because he needed to get off? She had always imagined that it would be awkward for men, jerking off in the shower - water wasn't exactly the best lubricant, after all - but the image still enticed her. Whenever she saw it in movies or porn, it drove her absolutely insane every single time.