Aerion: Need your help. Urgent.

The message comes just after nine—no greeting, no context. You stare at it for a second before typing back.

You: That sounds like a you problem.

Aerion: Get over here.

A beat. 

Aerion: Please. 

Aerion: And bring that face I like.

You exhale through your nose, thumb hovering over the screen longer than it should. 

You: You’re impossible.

Aerion: I know.

Aerion: See you soon, pretty girl.

By the time you reach his apartment, the hallway was quiet as the building settled into the late hour. You stop in front of his door and knock once, barely having time to pull back before it swings open.

Aerion stands there, already stepping aside like he expected you down to the second.

"Took you long enough.”

You brush past him without answering, the door clicking shut behind you as you shrug off your coat.

"You said urgent," you reply, "not life or death."

The living room has been half-dismantled, lamps dragged into corners and blinds drawn low, the overhead lights killed entirely.

On the coffee table sits a bulky VHS camcorder surrounded by a stack of labeled cassettes, and in the corner an old CRT monitor hums faintly, washing the room in a pale greenish glow. 

Aerion moves past you toward the coffee table without a word. He picks up the camcorder, cradling it in both hands before fiddling with it.

"…What is all this?" you ask, something between curiosity and amusement edging into your voice. 

He finally glances up, gaze dragging over you and lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. 

"Character study," he says. "Isolation. Routine. Subtle shifts in behavior." 

He reaches for one of the cassettes before popping it into the camera. 

"Professor wants something original." 

"That sounds like bullshit."

"It is," he agrees easily. "But it looks good on paper."

You drift closer, drawn in by the setup—the space he's arranged spare and specific, every element placed with intention.

“Stand there,” he says, nodding toward a cleared space in front of him.

You glance at it. “You didn’t say I was acting.”

“You’re not,” he says immediately. “Just… exist there.”

“So you just called me over to make me your… what, subject?”

His mouth twitches faintly at that. “Something like that.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then tilt your head just slightly. “And what do I get in return?”

That earns you something—his gaze sharpening, interest flickering as he adjusts his grip on the camera.

“Depends,” he says after a pause. “Are you here to argue, or are you going to do what you came for?”

You blink at him, then let out a small, incredulous laugh. “Wow. Bossy today.”

His mouth twitches again as if he’s trying not to give you too much of a reaction. You hold his gaze for a moment, weighing it, then move to the spot without further argument. 

The camcorder comes up and you hear the soft mechanical click of it starting to record.

“Stay right there,” he says again, quieter this time, more to himself than to you.

You let your weight settle, arms loose at your sides, and look back at him through the lens.

It’s strange being watched this intently, not uncomfortable exactly, but present in a way everyday life rarely asks you to be.

You barely shift before his voice cuts in, calm and immediate. 

"You're thinking too hard," he says, without looking up from the viewfinder.

"You're pointing a camera at me."

"I've done worse." The smirk is audible. "Relax. Pretend I'm not here."

Easier said than done, but you try, letting your gaze slip off the lens before it lands on him instead.

The way his hands work over the camcorder, steady and precise. The quiet focus in his expression, the set of his jaw in the pale glow of the monitor—and lower, where his shirt has ridden up just enough to show a strip of his stomach, a faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans.

God, he looked so good tonight.

You force your attention away before it lingers too long.

A few seconds pass and gradually you start to move. Slow and aimless, the way you might cross a room when no one's watching, picking something up off the shelf and setting it back down.

After a minute or two, you pause mid-step and glance toward him, one brow lifting.

“How long am I supposed to be doing this?”

“Until it stops feeling like a performance,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Keep going. Touch your hair. Roll your shoulders. Whatever feels natural.”

You exhale through your nose, somewhere between annoyed and amused, but you do it anyway.

One hand lifts to push your hair back, fingers lingering at the nape of your neck a beat too long. You can feel the lens tracking the movement.

He stepped closer, boots quiet on the hardwood. The camcorder stayed glued to his eye, but his free hand reached out, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with surprising gentleness.

“Better,” he murmured.

The pad of his thumb grazed the shell of your ear, then trailed down the side of your neck, slow enough to raise goosebumps. 

“You’re tense. I can see it in your shoulders.”

“I’m being filmed by a man who texts like a hostage negotiator,” you shot back, but your voice had already softened, breath catching when his fingers continued their lazy descent, tracing your collarbone.

Aerion hummed, the sound vibrating low in his chest. He was close enough now that you could smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. 

The camera dipped slightly, angling down to capture the way your nipples had tightened visibly against the fabric.

A flush of heat rushed to your face as you became painfully aware of just how sheer the material was, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

You regretted not putting on a bra earlier—though, if you were being honest, a part of you had half-expected that coming over to Aerion’s, you wouldn’t really need one anyway.

"Take a breath," he said. "Let it out slow."

You did as he said, though the exhale came out unsteady, catching slightly as your chest rose and fell under his lens.

His thumb found the hollow of your throat, resting there just long enough to feel your pulse jump.

“Good girl.”

The praise landed hot and low in your belly. You hated how easily he could flip a switch from casual to charged with nothing more than a look and a few quiet words.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. “This still for your project?”

“It was.” 

A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. “Now it’s for me.”

The air shifts with it, subtle but immediate. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the air feeling thicker, more electric. 

He lowered the camera for a moment before taking a step fully into your space, one hand sliding to your waist, the other cupping your jaw as he tilted your face up to his.

“Tell me to stop if you want,” he said against your lips, breath warm and mint-tinged. “But I think you like being watched.”

You didn’t answer.

Instead you rose onto your toes and kissed him. Slow at first, testing, then deeper when he groaned and pulled you flush against him.

His tongue slid against yours while his hand drifted down to grip your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

When he broke the kiss, his lips brushed your ear.

“How about we make this a little more exciting,” he whispered, voice rough with want.

“Strip for the camera. Slow. Let it see everything.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. He pulled back, just enough to look at you—whatever he found in your expression seeming to satisfy him—then stepped away before raising the lens and finding you again, and this time there was nothing clinical about it.

Your gaze drops without meaning to, catching on the front of his jeans that pulled taut, the outline of him pressing against the denim in a way that made your mouth go dry. 

"Go on," he said quietly before stepping back and angling the lens towards you once more. 

You held his gaze for one second, then reached for the hem of your shirt, peeling it up and over your head.

The cool air hit your skin, nipples pebbling instantly under the camcorder’s indifferent stare.

Aerion’s eyes tracked every inch like he was memorizing you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he breathed. “Keep going.”

You hooked your thumbs into your waistband next, pushing your pants down your hips, stepping out of them until you stood in nothing but your underwear.

The lace was already damp, and you knew the camera would catch that dark little spot when you turned just right.

Aerion made a low, appreciative sound. 

Without breaking eye contact, he sets the camcorder down on the coffee table. The red light keeps blinking, angled just right to keep both of you in frame. 

Then he closes the distance again, his hands finding you. He cups your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until you arched into him with a soft moan. One hand slid down, slipping beneath the lace to find you slick and aching.

“So wet already,” he murmured, two fingers gliding through your folds before circling your clit with firm pressure. “All this just from me pointing a camera at you?”

You bit your lip, hips rocking instinctively against his hand. “Aerion…”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw and down until it reached the sensitive spot beneath your ear. 

Suddenly he pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right, and your head fell back on a broken moan.

The wet, obscene sound of his fingers pumping in and out filled the room, accompanied by the faint mechanical hum of the camcorder still recording every second.

Aerion’s mouth found your throat, sucking a mark into your skin while his thumb kept working your clit in tight, relentless circles.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he praised, voice dark and filthy. “Let the camera hear how pretty you sound when I touch you.”

Your legs trembled making you grab his shoulders for balance, nails digging in as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.

He pulled his fingers free suddenly, making you whimper, before bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean with a low groan.

He looked at you with a smirk, his eyes dark with heat as he licked the last traces from his fingers.

Without breaking eye contact, he undid his belt before shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs in one smooth motion, freeing his cock. 

It sprang out, thick and heavy, the flushed head already glistening with a bead of precum. He wrapped a hand around the base and gave one slow stroke, his thumb smearing the slickness over the sensitive tip as he watched your reaction.

Then, softer but still commanding, he spoke with a wicked little smile, “On your knees, baby.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine.

You sank down without hesitation, the hardwood cool against your skin. Aerion moved closer, one hand tangling gently in your hair as he guided the head of his cock to your mouth, tapping it against your lower lip once, then twice.

“Wanna show the camera how good you use your mouth?” he murmured, the words dripping with filthy promise.

His thumb brushed your cheek, almost tender.

“Open up for me, pretty girl. Let it see how deep you can take me.”

Your pussy clenched at the words. You looked up at him through your lashes, then parted your lips before taking him in.

The first slide of his cock over your tongue drew a deep, guttural groan from his chest. He was thick—stretching your mouth in that perfect, slightly overwhelming way.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, tongue swirling around the head before you sank lower, taking as much of him as you could.

“Fuck,” Aerion hissed, fingers tightening in your hair. His hips twitched forward, pushing another inch past your lips. “That’s it… just like that. Look at the camera while you suck me.”

You turned your head slightly, eyes flicking toward the blinking red light.

The knowledge that it was recording every second, your spit-slick lips stretched wide around his cock and the way your throat worked when you took him deeper, made you moan around him. The vibration pulled another curse from Aerion.

He kept one hand in your hair as he started to rock his hips, fucking your mouth in slow, controlled thrusts. 

“Gods, you look so perfect like this,” he rasped, voice strained with pleasure.

His gaze kept darting between your face and the camcorder.

“All sloppy and eager… taking my cock so well while the camera watches. You like knowing it’s filming how wet your mouth gets for me, don’t you?”

You hummed in agreement, the sound muffled and obscene. Drool had started to slip from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin but you didn’t care.

You bobbed your head faster, one hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit, twisting gently on every upstroke the way you knew he liked.

Aerion’s head tipped back for a moment, a low, broken moan escaping him. His stomach flexed visibly under the hem of his shirt, and his cock throbbed against your tongue.

“Shit—slow down or I’m gonna come too fast,” he warned, but he didn’t pull away.

Instead he looked straight at the camera, lips parted and cheeks flushed, his signature arrogance melting into raw lust. 

“So fucking good with that pretty mouth… that’s my girl,” he groaned, violet eyes half-lidded as he stared back down at you.

He pulled out suddenly, strings of saliva connecting your lips to the glistening head of his cock.

You gasped for air, lips swollen and shiny, and he immediately tapped his cock against your tongue again, letting the camera catch the messy sight.

Aerion cursed under his breath, the sound raw and reverent.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek.

His voice dropped even lower, thick with lust.

“But first I’m going to fuck that tight little cunt while the camera records every second of you falling apart on my cock.”

The words hit you like a spark.

You looked up at him, lips parted and shiny and you barely had time to respond before he was hauling you up off your knees with strong hands under your arms. 

He spun you around and bent you over the arm of the couch in one smooth, possessive motion, your stomach pressed against the soft fabric, ass raised high for him—and for the camera.

He shifted the camera slightly so that the lens was perfectly positioned, capturing the curve of your back, the way your tits hung heavy and swaying, and the slick shine between your spread thighs.

Aerion stepped up behind you, one large hand smoothing possessively down your spine before gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

His other hand guided his cock, dragging the thick head through your soaked folds, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate strokes that made you push back against him desperately.

“Eyes on the camera,” he reminded you, voice a dark rumble.

He leaned over your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he finally pushed inside slowly, allowing you to drink in every inch as he stretched you open.

A broken moan tore from your throat the moment he bottomed out, buried to the hilt in your tight heat.

The stretch was perfect, almost too much, the slight burn only making the pleasure sharper.

“Fuck… so wet,” he groaned, hips flush against your ass.

He gave one shallow thrust, then another, letting you feel every thick inch.

He started moving faster, each snap of his hips driving deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing obscenely through the quiet apartment.

One hand stayed anchored on your hip while the other reached around to rub tight circles over your swollen clit.

Your mouth fell open on a silent cry, eyes locked on the blinking red light as he fucked you harder, the couch creaking beneath you with every powerful thrust.

The pleasure was already spiraling, sharp and relentless, but Aerion wasn’t done with you yet.

Without warning he pulled out, the sudden emptiness dragging a needy whine from your throat.

Before you could protest, his hands were on you flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion.

Your shoulders hit the couch cushions, legs splayed wide as he loomed over you, silver-blond hair sticking to his forehead, chest heaving.

“Much better,” he murmured, voice rough. “I want to see your face properly when I ruin you.”

Aerion reached for the camcorder on the coffee table, scooping it up with one hand. The red light never faltered.

He held it steady, angling the lens down as he knelt between your spread thighs, framing the shot perfectly—your swollen, dripping cunt, the way your chest rose and fell, the desperate look in your eyes.

He stroked his cock before spreading your arousal along his length, then pressed the thick head against your entrance.

The camera captured every second, closer this time: the slow push as he sank back into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you open again with a wet, obscene sound.

A low groan tore from his chest the moment he bottomed out, buried to the hilt in your tight heat.

“Fuck… still so perfect. Gripping me like you never want me to leave.”

He started thrusting immediately—deep, rolling strokes that made your back arch off the couch.

The camcorder stayed in his grip, pointed shamelessly between your bodies so it could record the way his cock disappeared inside you over and over, slick and shining with your combined wetness.

“That’s it,” Aerion growled, voice strained with pleasure.

“Let the camera see your face. Show it how pretty you look getting ruined. How your eyes roll back when I hit that spot riiiiight…there—”

A broken moan tore from your throat as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyes from the new angle.

Your back arched sharply off the couch, legs trembling uncontrollably while your fingers clawed desperately at the cushions beneath you.

“Oh fuck— Aerion!” you cried out, voice cracking as another precise thrust sent sparks shooting through your veins.

The coil in your belly tightened viciously, threatening to snap at any second.

He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear.

“Listen to those sweet little sounds you’re making for the camera. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. You gonna come already? Gonna show the camera how beautifully you fall apart on my cock?”

“Gonna watch this later,” he snarled, slamming in deep with a brutal thrust.

“Gonna stroke my cock raw to the way your greedy little pussy clenches and milks me.” 

Another vicious thrust.

“Gonna cum so hard to the sight of you falling apart while I flood…” thrust “this…” thrust “tight…” thrust “sloppy fucking cunt.”

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, the pressure building fast and overwhelming under his relentless pace and the wicked swirl of his fingers on your clit.

The camera kept recording, merciless and intimate, capturing every twitch of your face, every bounce of your breasts, every slick thrust as Aerion fucked you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me,” he demanded, voice breaking with his own impending release.

“Cum on my cock while the camera watches. Let it see how good you look when you’re mine.”

The coil snapped.

Your orgasm crashed over you violently, walls fluttering and clenching hard around his thick length as you cried out, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before you forced them open again, staring straight at the red light like he’d ordered.

Your whole body shook with the force of it, a broken sob of pleasure tearing from your throat.

Aerion groaned loudly, hips stuttering as your pussy milked him.

“Fuck—yes, just like that—”

He fucked you through it, kept the camera trained on your face through it all as he chased his own release with deep, punishing strokes until, with a guttural moan of your name, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard.

You felt every pulse as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you until it started to leak out around his cock with every shallow thrust he gave to ride it out.

He stayed buried for a moment, both of you panting, bodies slick with sweat. Then he leaned down, pulling out just enough for the lens to catch the thick white cum leaking from your swollen pussy before he pushed back in, fucking it deeper with lazy rolls of his hips.

Finally, he reached over and stopped the recording, setting the camera aside on the coffee table with a soft click.

He looked down at you, eyes still dark but sparkling with mischief, a cocky grin spreading across his face.