Fuck fuck fuck Avery would be here soon FUCK it was only an hour away, and Jack didn't know what to say or what to do or what Avery wanted fuck fuck
fuck.
Fuck. That felt good.
Jack was on his side, facing his door as he always did, his hand curled around his cock, something so familiar to him that he could ignore the unfamiliar future. Wanking soothed the nervous dance that began in his stomach, turned the dance into something pulsing and soothing and good. It was a pity, Jack thought, that it could only last for so long.
Up and down his hand went up and down and he gasped, like you can only gasp during sex, even when that sex is solo. Jack's leg slid back and the one he was laying on was crooked forward. One of his hands was on his balls, holding himself really, and the other fisted at the head of his cock, the pads of his fingers sliding over sensitive foreskin.
When he came, Jack curled into a ball and let himself come on the bedspread. He'd clean it up. This was the best part, where he could lie warm and satisfied and completely calm. But all too soon the nerves returned to his stomach and he began to feel cold.
The room smelled of sex. Jack opened his window and cleaned himself and the bedspread. It wasn't so bad, but he turned the blankets over anyway. Avery was on his way! Jack got dressed and found a cigarette to calm his nerves. It wasn't enough, but he didn't have time to wank again, and he didn't know if he could. Footsteps in the hall--no, they passed. Jack tensed up, nervous.
Fuck.