Modern AU
I groan as I carry groceries to the elevator of my apartment building, my arms aching. Why can't I be a normal person who brings stuff in trips instead of carrying 16 bags at once? Once I step in and press the floor button with my nose, I feel the strong urge to let them all drop, but then I remember I'll have to pick them all up again. This probably a new way to amputate arms that they haven't released to the public yet. Deciding not to drop everything and die in the elevator, I wait impatiently for the doors to swing open.
Why did we have to get an apartment on the top floor, all the way down the hall from the elevator? Despite Keith and I's terrible planning of living space (even though it's a really nice apartment), I trudge down the hall, waddling from all the weight. I shall embrace my true inner self: a penguin.
Finally getting to our door, I drop the bags and reach into my purse for my keys. When I can't find them, I start to get nervous thinking I'll be locked out and all the food will spoil, but then I remember I had put the house key in my pocket.
"Finally." I breathe, our apartment door gliding open.
A wave of cool air from our air conditioning washes over me, relieving me from the stress of bag carrying. I kick my shoes off and relinquish my thin jacket, leaving me in my tank top and jeans.
I waltz into the room and feel my breath get taken away by the view out of the large, ceiling to floor windows. Right, this is why we got an apartment on the top floor, all the way at the end of the hall. The vibrant orange sunset fell over the city skyline, inky dark blue of the night slowly closing in overhead. I could have watched the navy blue consume the bright orange forever, but the large pile of bags at the doorway nags in my mind, so I pull my eyes away.
I skip over to fridge and open all of the doors, including the freezer, before dragging in all the bags by their handles. I close the door quietly (our neighbor has two kids and they should be in bed by now) and start to load our fridge, freezer and cabinets with soon to be eaten foods.
About halfway through, I hear an low, indistinguishable noise. I stop riffling through bags and concentrate on listening. After a few moments, maybe even a minute, I don't hear anything else. It must be my imagination; or the building. Concluding it's nothing to worry I about, I go back to my mundane task of putting away groceries.
---
I sigh as I stretch my arms, rising to the tips of my toes, before falling back down. I pick up all the deflated plastic bags, stretched from the items they held, and toss them in the trash. It's a shame they can't be recycled. I shrug the thought away and head to our bedroom. Sleep here I come. I freeze as I hear another noise, similar to the one before, but much louder. I listen carefully, trying to pick up more sounds.
Instead of disappearing like the one before, the noise rings again. I tread hesitantly to the door of the bedroom, that was slightly open. Dim light floods from the room into the hallway, giving it an ominous feeling.
More noises come from the room, some louder than others. Suddenly, I freeze as it calls out again. It said my name. My chest tightens in fear of whatever was in there, but I peek my head through the ajar door anyways.
The tightness in my chest stays, despite the fear leaving me immediately, as my cheeks flush at the scene before me.
Keith was laying on our bed, shirt and pants discarded on the floor and boxers slid down. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was panting as he pumped up and down the shaft of his erect member. His face was red from his stimulation and his eyebrows were knitted together. Precum was already spilling from the tip, dripping onto his hand.
