The Watcher's
Window

I leave the window open every night, a silent invitation. Across the courtyard, he knows it. He fucks her against the glass, her body a writhing silhouette, while his eyes lock onto mine—a dark, deliberate challenge. When she comes, he doesn't look away. He just watches me watch him. Later, his hand is over my mouth, his body still wet with her, thrusting into me against my own door. He finishes deep inside, then leaves without a word, but we both know the window will be open again tomorrow. He's not just my neighbor. He's my older brother's best friend, and this is our secret, filthy ritual.