Michael’s camcorder covers half of his face, trembling fingers clasping desperately against the plastic exterior as he works hard to keep it pointed at you.

Maybe his hands are shaking from nerves, or maybe it’s because he’s fighting against every last drop of restraint left in his body while your hips roll painfully slow over his as you ride him on the plush carpet of his bedroom floor.

It was your idea— filming the two of you in such an intimate setting.

You’d spent days watching Michael get all wide-eyed and giddy as he captured every little moment on his new video camera. He took it everywhere, becoming somewhat of an amateur filmmaker as he directed everyone around him, taping the most mundane moments.

Even when it was just the two of you, the camera stayed glued to his hand.

The late afternoon sun slipped through his curtains as you sat in his bedroom, thumbing through a stack of records. You thought you were finally safe from your boyfriend’s constant need to document his every move, when the realization hit you— you were being watched.

The albums at your fingertips stilled as you gazed up, noticing the red light glaring in the distance.

Your eyes found Michael’s through the lens of his camera— always filming.

He smiled from behind the bulky machine as you waved, giggles bubbling under your breath at your precious boyfriend who thought you searching through his music collection was something worth documenting.

And for him it really was.

But seeing the way his curls fell against his forehead while he focused on your every move through the viewfinder, his slender fingers curving and gripping at the camera as he kept you in his sight, gave you other ideas.

You’d thought about it last week; using his camcorder to film the two of you having sex.

His head was buried in the crook of your neck kissing and sucking, while his breath got heavier against your skin with every thrust of his hips.

And when his hand fought between your bodies to rub tight circles into your clit, your back arched in a way you didn’t even know was possible, pressing your cheek even further into the satin pillowcase beneath your head.

You felt a familiar coil tightening deep in your abdomen, but were met with a familiar sight when you opened your eyes, momentarily distracting you from the orgasm curling at your toes.

Sitting on the bedside table, his video camera was pointed toward you, completely shut off, and yet, your body went numb at the thought of the little red recording light turning on.

You imagined it capturing the lewd sounds Michael was making into your neck, and the image of your heaving bodies meshing together— all slick and sweaty.

The thought of filming such a filthy thing, having it on tape for just the two of you; it was hot. So hot, that the notion of it sent you right over the edge.

Michael was too busy moaning into your shoulder about how good you felt to notice your gaze locked on his favorite new toy.

You grasped at his back, nails digging into his skin as the most pathetic whines fell from your lips.

From that moment on you could barely look at it the same.

Every time he held the camcorder in front of his face, gentle hands keeping it steady, and the corner of his smile peeking out from behind it— your skin got hot.

But each time you thought you could work up the courage to tell him about your little fantasy, a twinge of embarrassment kept the words from leaving your mouth.

Michael was just so private. You couldn’t imagine he’d want to film something that personal.

So, for the sake of avoiding rejection, you kept your desire to be filmed confidential.

But it was especially hard to keep your dirty little secret in instances like this: him taping when it was just the two of you alone.

It would be so easy to ask him, so easy to set the camera on any surface in his room and angle it just right, letting it capture every second as you had your way with each other.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You never could.

Settling for a bashful smile in his direction, the tension fueled by forbidden thoughts pulled at your cheekbones as he caught each tweak of your expression on his camera.

“You’re so funny with that thing.” You went back to the albums at your fingers, flipping one after another looking for the perfect soundtrack to accompany the setting sun outside the window.

“How?” He kept the camcorder in front of his face, still rolling, as his question slipped past his grin.

You didn’t answer, shaking your head with a smirk of your own as you kept your hands busy with the records.

“Because I wanna record my girl?” His voice was sweet, carrying across the room with a quiet confidence that made your breath hitch.

If he wanted to record you so bad, maybe he wouldn’t turn down the depraved idea that kept rolling around in your head-

“Maybe I want something to watch when I’m away. When I miss you.” the camera was still recording, and you had to force your fingers to keep moving through the vinyls, because the way his voice got all low and soft threatened to make your entire body freeze.

Your chest swelled thinking about him watching these moments when he was halfway across the world; simple tapes of you doing absolutely nothing in his room— something to remind him what’s waiting back home.

But then your mind wanders as you think about him missing you in a different way.

The nights when he’s alone in a hotel room somewhere, with his hand wrapped around his dick and his eyes squeezed shut, picturing your naked body on the back of his eyelids.

The nights when it’s already morning back in California and he knows you’re too busy to talk on the phone.

The nights when he needs just a little something more than his imagination to fall asleep.

And you could help him with that.

Right now.

With his video camera you could offer a little keepsake for him to take on tour, something for him to keep hidden away until he needed it most. Something for his eyes only that would make his cheeks burn when he remembered it was tucked deep inside the front pocket of his carry on.

“You’d do that? Watch tapes of me while you’re away?” You try your best to keep the sultry curiosity out of your voice as you stare down at your hands that have definitely stopped moving.

“Of course baby.”

The camera lowers just enough for his stare to meet yours and his eyes are too warm and gentle. If only he knew the thoughts clouding your brain right now.

“That’s sweet.” Your smile barely reaches your cheeks before the camera is back in front of his face, capturing your response.

“Michael?”

“Hmm?”

A surge of courage, or more likely lust, rushes through your chest as you watch him hum in response, his lips lightly pressing together.

“Could you kiss me?”

The camera lowers, his eyes visible to you again.

“Baby you don’t have to ask-“

He pulls the camcorder down completely, his lips pulling into a full fledged smile as his finger hovers over the button to turn it off-

“With the camera on.”

His body goes still.

You’re staring at him, watching his smile settle into his cheeks, lips parted just enough for his breathy response to slip past them.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t turn off the video camera.

“I could do that.”

Instead he places it carefully on the edge of his bed, making sure it’s pointed directly at you. Adjusting it inch by inch, his eyes bounce between the picture of you in his camera, and your eyes locked on him just a few feet away.

It nestles perfectly against his comforter as he makes his way across the floor, kneeling beside you without saying a single word.

He looks a little uncertain and for a minute you regret putting him in this situation, but then his hand finds your jaw, pulling you closer until your lips meet.

The movement of his mouth against yours is slow and careful, but there’s a hunger in the way his hands find your waist, grabbing and pulling you into him— eager.

The kiss deepens but there’s a slight hesitation in his touch as his fingers linger at the hem of your t-shirt.

“We can stop.”

The offer is abrupt as you pull back just enough for your words to land on his lips: swollen, parted, and fighting a tender smile.

“The camera- I mean. We can stop recording.”

“D’ya want that?” His voice was quiet, eyes intense as he searches your expression for the answer to his question.

You’re unable to look him in the eyes, attention falling to the ground as you try to pry the word “no” from somewhere deep in your throat where it’s refusing to leave.

“Angel…”

You can’t see his face, but the nickname floats through the air in a low chuckle.

He’s amused.

“Don’t.” Your chest is hot and there’s a slight pang of humiliation— or maybe annoyance— swimming in your voice as you keep your eyes trained on the floor.

“Look at me baby.”

You can hear the smile behind his words as his fingertips find your jaw again, pulling your gaze forward.

“My angel wants to be filmed?”

“Mikey.”

He’s holding your face in his hands making it impossible for you to look away.

And he’s grinning.

“Tell me.” His words are taunting, seeping with a discreet kind of arrogance.

You shake your head, physically unable to pull the words from your mouth.

“C’mon, gotta tell me what you want.”

“I wanna record it.” You find your voice, pulling it from your throat and shoving it past your lips.

“I want you to have a tape— of us.”

You wish you didn’t sound so timid as you watched the smile push against his cheeks.

“Doing what?”

He’s smug now, biting at his lower lip to keep his smirk from growing.

“Michael.”

He raises a brow and suddenly you remember all of this is being captured by the camera perched on his bed.

“Wanna make a video of us fucking Mikey.” Your voice drops to a low whisper and you can feel him tense up at the indecent language dripping from your lips.

“So you can watch it when you miss me.” You throw his earlier statement back at him, only this time, the intention behind the words is far more perverted.

“Would that be okay?”

Now you’re teasing, trailing your fingers up the nape of his neck, wrapping them gently in his curls.

His answer is delivered in the quick grip of his hands on your hips, fingers sliding past your t-shirt and onto your skin.

His touch is everywhere: hands roaming your stomach, pressing flat against your lower back to push you further into him as your lips find each other in an all consuming heat.

It’s a sweltering frenzy of newfound corruption with both of your fighting to free yourselves from the layers of clothing that kept your skin from touching.

The flames of anticipation grew hotter with every article that hit the floor— the gentle reminder of your on-screen debut flashing red in your peripheral vision.

The camera sat nice and neat on the edge of Michael’s bed, recording as your bodies moved in a desperate rhythm.

Your lips were still attached when his fingers ran along the waistband of your panties.

“You sure?” His voice was muffled into the kiss, too quiet for his camcorder to pick up.

You pulled back, legs straddling his hips as you reached toward the bed.

You grabbed the camera, handing it to him, red light still blinking.

He held it out in his palm, unsure of what you were doing, until you moved his hand, guiding the camera to its habitual position in front of his face, letting him do what he’s been doing for weeks— record you.

“Oh, Angel.”

The groan falls from his lips as he leans back, one hand keeping the camera secure at his face, the other sitting flat against the carpet.

And while he looks for you in the view finder, you tug his underwear down his thighs, not even bothering to push them all the way off his legs.

You think about wrapping a hand around his length, stroking him a few times for the sake of his later-viewing pleasure.

But you were too impatient— willing to skip foreplay in exchange for the satisfaction of feeling him deep inside you.

You pull your panties aside just enough to feel him dip into the slick mess pooling at your center.

His breath hitched.

You were wet. It was rare that you could get this worked up from him barely touching you, and even more unlikely that you’d be ready to take him without the stretch of his fingers first.

But as you sunk down, it became increasingly evident just how much you wanted this— how much you’d thought about him filming you.

“That’s good angel.” His praise chokes out between sighs.

You’re whining as he fills you completely, every inch of him tucked away and pulsing against your walls.

Your eyes had been shut, soaking in the stretch as you slid down, but now, you looked directly at the lens in front of you, eyelids heavy and lips parting as you rolled your hips over his.

“Angel.” This time the word is a complete and utter whimper.

“You look s’pretty like that.” He’s cooing under his breath, as you keep eye contact with him through the camera.

His dick presses somewhere real deep making your lashes flutter and your brows pull together.

His fingertips dig into the carpet, and you can tell his need to touch you is agonizing, but the angle is too good. The point of view from his camera, the way he’s stroking into you at just the right spot; all of it forcing him to stay put— driving his hand even further into the ground to hold himself steady.

It’s a slight shift when pans the camera down, but the action has you going dizzy.

The camcorder is focused between your bodies, perfectly capturing the view of your pussy hugging him in.

You make a show of it, lifting up just enough for the camera to catch a glimpse of the creamy ring of arousal building at the base of his cock, before burying yourself back down on him. Bouncing nice and slow, watching the way his brows furrow from behind the camera.

It startles you when he shifts beneath you, abruptly leaning over to put the camera back in its original position, tossing it on the bed and pointing toward you, still recording.

He’s still inside you, his hands gripping your body, everywhere— desperate to touch you, to hold you.

You rock your hips into his at a quicker pace, fingers tugging at his hair.

“You like this.” His statement is almost incriminating as it melts through his smile pressing beneath your jaw.

Your hips stutter; skin going warm at his sultry accusation.

Before you can respond his voice drops lower, humming into your neck, “I like it too.”

He holds onto your hips steady, fucking up into you— deprived and impatient.

The pleasure is blinding and you can feel your body tensing under his fingertips.

“Mikey I’m close.”

You’re whining into the air, and the broken groans falling into your shoulder tell you he’s not far from his own release.

He kisses back up your neck, sloppy and quick before bringing his face back to yours.

“Look at me baby.”

With gentle fingertips, he holds your jaw in his hand, stroking a careful thumb across your cheek to coax your eyes open.

“Wanna see you.”

Your lashes flutter, eyes opening with heavy lids and a completely fucked-out gaze.

“My pretty girl.” His compliment yanks at the thin string of composure pulling tight in your stomach and you can’t stop the waves of relief from washing over you as it snaps.

The orgasm induced high clouding your brain sends a filthy request to your lips,

“Want you to cum inside Mikey…”

His hands stiffen, but his pupils grow wide, laced with something more than hunger— greed.

“Please please please.” The word is a breathless whimper ringing out over and over again, pussy sensitive and throbbing as your hips roll languidly against him.

The pathetic sound of your begging is all it takes for Michael to hold you close as he spills into you.

Burying into your chest, his lips press against your sternum muffling the desperate sounds seeping from his throat. Each little gasp melts into your skin while your hands tangle into his hair.

You gently play with his curls, wrapping them around your fingertips as you hear his breath soften under your touch.

He’s almost giggling when his voice finally becomes clear again, still purring into your bare chest, “That was filthy.”

He pulls back just enough to catch you peering down at him, both of you wide-eyed and grinning.

“Bet you’ll appreciate it when you’re all worked up a million miles away.”

Your fingers are still threading through his hair, attempting to remedy the mess you’ve made from all the grabbing and tugging.

“Bet I will.”

He’s got that look on his face of sheer joy. Smile digging deep against his cheekbones and his eyes washed over with pure bliss as he looks up at you.