try not to think about your fave alone in their bedroom with their trousers undone, their shirt pulled up to display their torso, sweat beading along their skin, breath coming out in hot, quick pants . . . try not to think about their eyes squeezed shut as they conjure the thought of you half-dressed in their mind, as they groan helplessly into the heated air at the idea of your teeth biting into your bottom lip as you lean over them. try not to think about the slick back and forth sound of their hand wrapped around their cock, pumping it. try not to think of the chest-deep groan that escapes them as they imagine you on top of them. try not to think about how desperately in this moment they need you, how much their own hand cannot satisfy their craving.