Broken String

XXII (NSFW)

Okay, so this music actually isn't too bad. Eddy hasn't listened to a lot of pop, really, through high school and definitely not while he's been at the con. In fact his classmates used to rib him about it a little, to which he always retorted that he knew more than Brett does. But this? It's catchy, right? The boys look up at the camera, their faces alluring, so smooth. Eddy can just imagine running the back of his fingers over that guy's soft, soft cheek. 
"Hmm" he purrs, the sound coming naturally from the back of his throat. His dick stirs softly in his underwear and starts to swell. He doesn't do anything, though, he just lies back and watches the song, allowing his dick to harden at its leisure until he can see it when he glances down, a bulge under the quilt. 
He doesn't want to think, right now, why he's hard again, watching this. He just wants to enjoy the ride, because he already knows where this is going. 
He has time. 
His hand disappears under his shirt and finds his nipple. He tweaks it slowly and moans. It doesn't matter, there's no one here to hear it. 
This is just what he needs. He pulls his hand back and licks his fingers quickly, then moves to tweak his nipple again. 
"Ah! Fuck!" he groans. 
The song ends, and eagerly he clicks on the next one. It's the one he saw last time. The boys are dressed in B-boy attire, dancing on a chequer board. Wow. They're so beautiful. His hand slides down and goes around himself, moving gently.
"Ah..." he grunts softly as his hand starts going up and down. His left hand is sore, holding up the phone, but it's easy to forget because he can feel a powerful orgasm build. Still he moves slowly, up and down, up and down through the fabric of his underwear. 
God, it's good. 
The song ends and he presses refresh. No way is he ready to stop watching. 
His hands slips into his underwear and he grabs himself firmly. He's ready, he wants it, he wants to shout into the quiet room. So he moves quickly, tugging, yanking almost, up and down, only just this side of painful. 
"Oh God!" he groans, his eyes glued to the screen, the waves inside him building and building. 
Somewhere there's a consciousness that knows it would be a good idea to get naked right now, to grab some tissues. But the boy from the band seems to look right at him and he's lost, gone.
"Fuck! Yes!" he screams as the waves overtake him and he's coming, so hard, pouring himself into his underwear, the warmth shooting up into the fabric until it's soaked and he crashes down into the pillows. The phone slides out of his hand, onto the bed, still playing the song as the deepest relaxation comes over Eddy. 
"Oh my God." he whispers again as he turns himself onto his side and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up it's one o'clock, and it's the first time he's not had a nightmare in days. He looks around the room as realisation hits him. 
He came, Jesus, how he came. He's all sticky and disgusting now, he'll need a shower. He gets up gingerly and checks the quilt. It's clean, thank God. He really doesn't need to have to change his sheets, right now. He peels off his underwear and shirt and throws them down on the little stack of laundry he was going to do anyway. 
Now he'll definitely do it, and before anyone else comes home. He patters to the shower butt naked, for who's going to see him, and steps under warm, soothing water. He washes himself gently, taking his time, because his skin is still sensitised from his earlier orgasm. 
God, what an orgasm that was. And now he can't stop the thoughts anymore, as he soaps his body, running his right hand over his chest, shivering quietly at how pleasurable that still feels. 

Since when does he find men that attractive?