In the quiet of the night, Steve finds solace in the familiar. His cock, soft and relaxed, lies against his thigh, waiting. He takes it in his hand, feeling the coolness of the room contrast with the warmth of his skin. With a steady, methodical motion, he works his cock, feeling it stir, stretch, and grow. The sensation is intense, a slow burn that builds with each stroke. His mind wanders, lost in the rhythm, the feel, the scent of his own arousal. The room is filled with the sound of his hand on his cock, the soft, wet sounds of his pre-cum lubricating his strokes. His body tenses, his breath hitches, and with a final, firm stroke, he finds his release, his cock pulsing as he spills his load, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips.