larry smut

cyber

Clicking on the video alone has him pressing the heel of his palm against his hard cock; his skin prickles at how deliciously dirty it feels to open porn where anyone could catch him, even though the probability for it is low. The page is slow to load and even just a few seconds of the video feel like they take forever. All Harry gets is a shaky shot of the boy settling on the bed before he pauses. He leaves the video to load and goes back to refresh the university website. His schedule is still not up even though he was supposed to have it almost an hour ago, but he can't bring himself to care about that anymore. All he can think about is how in the tab right next to the one he's currently on, there's a video loading that he can't wait to watch. Just imagining what it might show is turning him on. The anticipation is making his heart beat faster; it feels like being denied with a reward dangling above his head for later, for if he's good. He licks his lips. He likes being denied and he likes being good and he likes being rewarded and if that boy is involved, he likes it even more. It feels even more real when he realises that no matter how many times he switches back to that tab, he can't make the video load faster and he really does have to wait.

He gives up on the pretence of doing anything else, staring instead at the video and watching the bar at the bottom slowly turn a light grey. He scrolls down a bit to see if there's any additional information he can find; the description to the video is just a simple just a bit of fun b4 class ;), but the account has some information listed at least. It's been active for a little under a year and has 24 videos uploaded. When he has access to a better internet connection, Harry plans on seeing them all. The username is a not particularly creative loadedgun28 and the profile picture shows the same boy from the video, making a face for the camera with his eyes crossed, bright blue and red-rimmed, lips stretched wide in a silly smile and come dripping down his cheeks and chin. Harry's both endeared and turned on. The brief description the profile gives puts the boy at two years older than Harry and has him in Manchester. Harry's heart skips a beat when he realises he might actually run into this boy in the street, might get a chance to meet him and maybe even get to know him. On second thought, that will probably be creepy if he watches this video. Still, he doesn't close the tab.

He curls his fingers around his cock through his trackies and gives it a few tugs. He checks the university website one last time when he sees how close the video is to loading. There's nothing new on it though, so he closes it. He practically counts down the seconds to the bar filling and is slamming his laptop shut as soon as the video is fully loaded. He jumps out of the chair so fast it clatters to the ground, but he doesn't bother picking it up before he skips off to his flat, closing and locking the door behind himself. He doesn't bother going to his room, setting the laptop on the coffee table in the common area instead. The sofa is lumpy and uncomfortable under his back and thighs, which he notes for later; for now, it doesn't much matter where he's sitting.

He leans back and puts his feet up on the edge of the coffee table around his laptop, spreading them wide so he has better access. He rests one hand on the inside of his thigh, running the other down the centre of his chest and over his belly. He pauses above the waistband of his trackies, oddly unwilling to keep going. The video is only a couple of minutes long, probably not enough for him to come just from it if he's not already worked up; he wants that though, wants to only really be touching himself while he watches the boy on his screen do the same, wants to come when he sees the boy's face screwed up in the same kind of pleasure, wants the video to be a reward he can treat himself with and he knows that the longer he waits, the better it'll be when he finally gets what he wants.

He pinches his thigh before putting both of his hands on his chest and rubbing his thumbs over his nipples in circles until they're hard and visible through his shirt. Just the position he's in is turning him on, slumped over an uncomfortable sofa with his legs spread wide as if he's just waiting for someone to come fuck him. Even through the thick trackies bunched up around his cock he can see it jump at the mere thought. He pinches his nipples and rolls them between his fingers, then twists them so harshly he can't stop the cry of pain that follows. His hips lift off the sofa briefly, the shift making fabric move over his cock, giving it the lightest touch that only serves to drive him more insane. He digs his nails into the noticeable peaks of his nipples. He'd want that, fantasises about it often, about being placed on display somewhere, tied up for everyone to see and touch and fuck without his say-so; he knows it's a terrible idea in reality and he'd never do it without someone he trusts supervising it, but he loves to go there in his mind, think about being so thoroughly powerless, so completely used for somebody else's pleasure. He watches as a dark spot of wetness appears at his trackies where the head of his cock is leaking.