Chapter Text
Rollo made his nightly stroll to the bell tower after most students retired to their dorms. His ascent ended midway up the tower, on a cozy floor with his scattered personal belongings. A few books here and there, a blanket draped over a chair, a picnic basket with remnants of an afternoon snack. The window had a padded bench beneath it, and a telescope lay nearby, for stargazing.
At least that’s was its original purpose.
Rollo spent years studying the night sky. Only on occasion would his lens cross a figure that intrigued him enough to watch.
But ever since the NRC students came, they were given rooms across the courtyard from his haunt. The magic-less beauty that was their prefect favored her window, he discovered purely by accident.
By accident, he reminded himself in lieu of repentance. He first discovered her disrobing, starting at her shoes. She winced when she took them off, after the long walk from the pier to Noble Bell College, the tour around the grounds, up and down the bell tower without complaint. She peeled off her uniform, article by article, revealing tantalizing skin to him as he scolded himself for not looking away.
He simply couldn’t. Not when she was baring herself to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. For all his strict habits to resist temptation, nothing could have prepared him for this. He would have had to blind himself to remain pure through her visual onslaught on his virtue, and he was not a strong enough man to make that kind of sacrifice for the sake of righteousness. How quickly her influence took hold, changing him, was nothing he knew how to combat. But each night she tempted him, he could not bring himself to blame her.
Watching her became a habit bordering on addiction. The joy he felt when he discovered she slept in the nude, often kicking off her blankets in her sleep to show her moonlit and sweat glistened skin. Desire gripped him more fiercely than he could have imagined. Molten heat flowed through his veins at the sight, and he became dependent on the relief he sought by his own hand while he watched her.
His filthy new obsession, rendering him nothing better than a desperate, rutting hedonist. But his desire outshone his shame and piety.
When he visited his perch early enough, he would find her touching herself. Now she read a book, the romance novel balanced on her chest was recognizable as a popular new release. He made a mental note to read it, if only to grow more familiar with what ran through her mind. It was entertaining enough for her to have her free hand between her thighs.
The sight of her body was already familiar. He studied her movements when she pleasured herself to understand the kind of touch she needed. But what went through her mind while she chased her pleasure? He hoped he had a part to play in her fantasies. He would prefer to dominate her every thought, as she did his. He could only pray he was an object of her desires.
Pray to whom, he idly wondered. For this was far too sinful a request from his God. Pray to the stars? The moonlight that graced her skin, illuminating it for his greedy eyes? Or better yet, to her? Hers was a body he longed to worship. Her smile and mind he often sung praises for, and he wasn’t a man to give compliments to much beyond his fair city and college.
She lay the book flat on her chest, reaching for the small trunk she kept under her bed, where she kept her treasures. The tawdriest, banned books that she hid away, a few common household items she repurposed to serve her in her times of carnal need.
A hairbrush with a smooth, thick handle for penetration. A small pillow she rode when she felt particularly brazen. A pale blue handkerchief she used to clean herself after, and would wash every morning to reuse in her carnal evening ritual. It was a ritual to them both now. One he delighted in sharing with her.
She pulled out an item he had not seen in her possession before. Purple silk, with a familiar gold celestial pattern. His jaw dropped. He backed away from the telescope to fumble past his robes to reach his pocket. Was that his? How could she have gotten it?
His heart soared at the thought of anything of his coming into contact with her bare, slick pussy. He would give her anything of his, especially the use of his body. The idea of her marking his clothes, his possessions with her arousal made him breathless.
He retrieved the handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his nose, breathing in deep.
The only scent that filled him was his own.
Disappointment settled heavy in his chest. His sluggish mind chastised him for his illogical expectation of being able to smell her on his own cloth. She had one, identical. Rollo knew the shop he procured his from was still around and sold them, although this was the first time he had seen anyone else with its replica.
He returned to his watch, curious to see what she would do with it. She ran it between her thighs, ghosting it over her mound. On another pass, she held it taut and rolled her hips against it, letting her head fall back. Next, to Rollo’s astonishment, she pressed to fingers to the cloth, pressing it inside. She stuffed herself slowly until only a corner of the silk was left at her entrance while her fingers circled her clit.
Rollo released a shuddering exhale. The last of his resistance was shredded. The musical clink of his belt coming undone was far too delicate a sound to mark his frantic surrender.
At long length, he released his cock, wrapping his handkerchief and fist around it. As if that would somehow deepen their shared connection, cross the distance so they indulged in themselves as one.
He had used it in such a way before. He told himself never again, and kept other means of cleaning himself after giving in to temptation. Especially after that time he forgot about his morning self-flagellation and brought his handkerchief to his face in public, only for his senses to be assaulted with the acrid scent of his sin.
His reservations were cast aside for the moment, the silk already wrapped around his freed cock, fucking his tight grip desperately while his scope was still trained on her.
Her pleasure was the most beautiful sight to him, all the more intoxicating during those shared moments. He kept pace with her, slowing only when he got too close before she peaked. It was a near thing, he almost caved and released before she did, content to watch her as he enjoyed his afterglow. Just in time, her back arched and the telltale shake in her thighs gave him permission to spill into his silk.
If there was only one, and they had just come around it together, that would have meant he came inside her. The thought was enough to prolong his euphoria an extra few seconds. He returned to her nightly show as she pulled the cloth out slowly, sensitive enough to tremble at the way it unfurled from her tight channel.
Already relaxing, she languidly brought it to her face, examining her handiwork. It was far too sullied to use to clean herself with, so she used her other washcloth and balled them up together to wash properly in the morning. Cleaned and satisfied, she rolled onto her side, exposing her perfect ass to him.
He almost took it as an invitation. Each night his resolve weakened considerably. All that stopped him was the uncertainty of her acceptance, and the idea of being interrupted when he was so close to claiming her.
Even though they were both spent, he could easily indulge in her until dawn. Run his hands over her smooth, flushed skin until he was hard again, and sink into her as he had longed to for since he first laid eyes on her.