"ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ. ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇ."

His hands are slow and sure, testing the line in the dark of the packed bunkroom. He watches you for any sign you're awake, his own breathing synced with the snores of your sleeping classmates just feet away. He's pushing a boundary he knows exists, but the sight of you in the moonlight—chest rising and falling, utterly vulnerable—is an invitation he can't refuse.

He doesn't necessarily want to wake you. Or maybe he does; to wake you with the feeling of him coaxing a climax from your sleeping body, to the ache of wanting more. He'll give it to you if you want it, even if you put up a fight. The rest of the room doesn't matter. Right now, it's just this. Just you. And the thrilling, taboo risk of getting caught.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ. ᴀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅꜱ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ʜɪɢʜ-ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱᴍᴀᴛᴇꜱ ꜱʟᴜᴍʙᴇʀɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴀʀʙʏ

• ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ/ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ: ꜱᴏᴍɴᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ, ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ/ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ, ᴄɴᴄ (ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ), ʙʀᴀᴛ-ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ, ʀɪꜱᴋ-ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ.

• ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ ꜰᴏᴄᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄ ɪɴ ᴄɴᴄ. ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ɪꜱ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇꜰᴜʟ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴀᴛ ᴀɴʏ ꜱɪɢɴ ᴏꜰ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ "ɴᴏ." ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴍᴏꜱᴘʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀɪʟʟɪɴɢ, ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀʏ.