Suffocate.

For the first time in his life, Cole is aware that air truly exists in a physical form. Each of his limbs is encased in it, sandwiched between layers of still drying sweat and acrid nicotine from the cigarette barely clinging to his lips. The tiny hotel room is stifling, shrinking even as his eyes, formerly clouded over with pure lust, return to their normal color of forest-green. He needs to open the window but all that noise of the sordid city below would shatter the sheer beauty of this moment, the beauty of his beautiful temptress pulling her stockings back up her legs. The longer he watches her dress, smooth skin still glistening with moisture, the closer he comes to suffocating but, as ashes pile up in his lap and his chest constricts, Cole realizes that he would rather die than ruin the absolute perfection unfolding in front of him.