Thursday...
Ethan didn't really take (y/n) to be the type to masturbate during the day. Not that he necessarily thought of his roommate masturbating at all. It's just... so risky for his normally tame best friend.
So imagine the shock on his face when he came home early from work to hear her softly moaning in her room.
Honestly, at first, he thought she had a guy over. Of course, that didn't really explain why he still nosed in anyways. The two of them were quite close, but not close enough to openly talk about their sex lives. Ethan assumed it was because she didn't date much and, out of respect, decided to keep his mouth shut about his own goings-on.
So maybe, then, it was out of disbelief that she would actually be getting anythat he slowly trudged up the stairs to her room in their shared house. As he approached her door, her noises got clearer and he could even hear her gasping for air.
Christ, he thought to himself. Who could be that good? Her door was cracked open just a bit, enough for ethan to peer through the gap and see her in bed... minus anyone else.
She laid in bed in her underwear, and he could see she'd tossed her clothes onto the floor haphazardly. One hand dipped into her panties and he could clearly see that she had her fingers deep inside herself. The other was poking into her bra and pulling at her nipples for more stimulation. In between her continued soft noises, Ethan could even hear how wet she was.
It was in this exact moment Ethan realized what he was doing. Why was he peeping on his roommate and best friend? Why was it so hard to tear his eyes away? Why was his dick fattening in his pants? Why, pray tell, was he still watching?!
He stumbled back a bit, trying to stay quiet, but the floorboard creaked. The door wasn't wide enough for her to see anything outside, but he figured his cover was blown since she suddenly silenced.
Nevertheless, he creeped back downstairs soundlessly, made himself a cup of coffee, and decided to take the best route he could think of—pretend he didn't see any of that. Easy.
He hoped.
About twenty minutes later, when his dick was behaving again and he'd cleaned out his tea mug, (y/n) hopped downstairs wearing the clothes he'd just seen thrown on the floor.
She acted mildly surprised to see him, making a note of his early arrival home. "We finished up our work for the day and the manager gave us the rest of the day off. Figured I'd come home and have a cuppa," he explained, not looking at her but rather lying on the couch and flipping through channels.
She nodded, hands on her hips and arms pointed back like a chicken. "Good idea. Think I'll go make one m'self," (y/n) decided, awkwardly stumbling to the kitchen.
This time, Ethan peeked a glimpse at her. He saw that her cheeks were a bit pink, and he was painfully reminded of what she was just doing. His filthy mind started to wander and he thought about if she was a full-body blusher. Did her chest brighten up a bit when–
Stop, he urged himself, rubbing his face with his whole hand. What was wrong with him?
Just pretend it didn't happen, remember? He'll be fine!
