Detour: James' Jaunt

Bare, wet skin slapped against the tiled floor, echoing throughout the halls. He would’ve been worried about the noise, but the adrenaline was pumping loud enough to drown it out. And besides, James had bigger problems to worry about…

His duffle bag was thankfully light enough to carry in a dead sprint. Though, he couldn’t help but be reminded how much more he should’ve packed.

As his feet occasionally slid across the smooth tile he began to think to himself, “I should’ve brought my sneakers. Actually, it probably would’ve been far better if I had worn some underwear… but no, I wanted to be ‘comfortable.’”

Regardless of how much he sulked, it wasn’t going to make him any less naked.

Well, at least the strain of his other muscles from fleeing helped draw more blood flow away from his bouncing erection, and thankfully brought it down a little. Being caught naked was bad, but explainable. Being caught naked and aroused on the other hand… He may as well take that potential sympathy and throw it away with his ripped shorts.

At this point James was basically running on autopilot. With every sweaty slide across the tiles he quickly attempted to compensate. He narrowly avoided plants, vending machines, and rails as he rounded each corner using only instinct and blind luck.

I have my room key. My room is close.

Nobody else should be out here.

I’ll be fine… I’ll be fiiiine…

I mean, look how late it is. Who would be out at this hour? What are the odds of running into someone…

He rounded another corner, down a hall.

Like I’d run into someone else. Especially some random woman roaming the hotel… just strutting around…

…with her red hair out…

… with everything out…

…e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g…

“Damn it,” James cursed as he felt his gutter-thoughts trying to direct his cock back to its former standing position.

He made another hairpin turn. But as he began to rebuild speed…

He felt a sudden, strong tug.

James flew backwards.

THUD!

His butt hit the ground hard.

He released a muffled groan as he flipped himself over to look behind.

One of the straps on James’ bag managed to catch itself onto one of the stair rails. Thankfully a simple enough problem to solve when you think about. He just needs to calmly take the strap and-

Something echoed through the hall.

James froze.

They were small sounds. One after the other.

Footsteps. Under any other circumstances they would be less than insignificant. But now, especially with them drawing closer each time…

“Crap,” James grunted.

Reasonable to say, ‘calmly’ was no longer an applicable word here.

He frantically pulled at the bag, constantly revving to go as soon as possible only for the bag to yank him right back. And to compound things, his constant movement with the bag only served to create new noises to track him with. Whether it be the clinking metal zippers on his bag, or his own increasingly numerous footsteps, his attempts to escape were effectively painting a target on his back for anyone around to hear.

The foreign footsteps sounded like they were starting to pick up in response to him, and it scared him that he didn't know exactly what direction they were coming from.

He had to make a decision, and FAST.