Chapter 2: Walls That Whisper Sin
The first thud against the shared wall was soft, almost tentative. Evan’s fingers froze over his keyboard. Then came another, a solid, rhythmic bump of the bedframe meeting plaster, followed by Luna’s low, muffled laugh. He closed his laptop, the click deafening in the sudden silence of his own room.
The sounds crystallized. A deep, hungry groan—Ben’s. “C’mere, baby.” The rustle of sheets, a sharp intake of breath. Then the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, slow at first, then building in intensity. Luna’s breathy moans broke into sharp, pleading gasps. “Ben—wait, it’s too much.”
“You can take it,” Ben grunted, his voice a strained rumble through the wall. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Just relax. Open up for me.” The slapping sound became harder, faster, a brutal punctuation to his words. Luna cried out, a strained whimper that was equal parts pain and surrender. “Oh god—slow down—!”
Evan’s hand was already moving, sliding beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. His own cock, thin and hard, twitched in his palm. He matched the rhythm from next door, his fist a tight, shameful substitute. He could picture it: Ben’s thick, relentless drive, the brutal stretch he’d heard her describe. Luna’s squeals climbed higher, fractured into sobs. “Yes! Fuck, yes, right there!” she screamed, the words dissolving into a raw, animalistic wail.
A final, shuddering impact shook the wall. A deep, guttural roar from Ben, a shattered cry from Luna. Then silence, heavy and complete. Evan’s own orgasm ripped through him, a silent, convulsive spasm into his clenched fist. He lay there, sticky and hollow, the echo of her pleasure a corrosive acid in his veins.