Liam huffs out an overwhelmed breath, digging his fingers against his thighs as he watches the man on the screen. He is captivating, truly - entrancing Liam with the dance of his fingers against the bulge of muscle at his belly, the way his swollen red lips part and the way his thick eyelashes span across the high of his sharp cheekbones. The bluish glow against his skin and the way his thick eyebrows push together when a rough sound vibrates in his throat. It is arousing, just watching him get turned on by himself.
He always does this - teases, like he knows how badly his viewers want to be able to feel what the pads of his fingertips feel. The warmth of his skin, the feel of his muscles flexing as he rotates his hips. Or at least, that is what Liam wants - to feel his smooth skin under his rougher palms, to cradle his hips and tongue at the skin stretched taut over his muscles.
Liam groans softly, cock twitching underneath the confines of the briefs he still wears as he watches the corners of the man's lips quirk up. The man dips his hands lower, fingers scratching at the hair trailing underneath his belly button.
Bradford is what Liam calls him, having been given no name other than his username. It fits, BradfordBadBoy, with the ink dancing up his arms and scattered across his chest, slipping down his sides and hugging at his hips. And then there is the silver hair, which always takes on a bluish tone from the computer. He looks familiar somehow, but Liam just tells himself it is because of the two years he has been watching him get off. He would know if he has ever crossed paths with someone as beautiful as Bradford.
"Want me to take it off?" He whispers, words rolling off of his tongue in his thick accent. Liam nods foolishly, sliding his palm between his legs as he watches Bradford tug at the red material stretched over his length.
He cups himself in sync with the man on the computer, easing his palm down his length and squeezing himself - just a pressure that makes a twist of arousal flow through his limbs. Bradford's eyes flick open, lips parting even more around a long exhale as he does the same. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip - a habit that he does more than a handful of times each show, but it still affects Liam the same.
It is maddeningly slow, the way the man on the computer slides off his briefs. Stopping after sliding one side down his hip to drag a thumb across the band, teasing at where the head of his cock pokes out from underneath the material. Liam's heart thuds heavy in his chest, and he feels kind of silly since he has seen the man's cock plenty of times but he feels addicted, desperate for just a glimpse to satiate his craving.
Liam shoves a hand underneath his briefs as Bradford walks closer to the camera, stepping out of his briefs and making himself comfortable in a too familiar chair. His legs shift up, feet seemingly flat on a surface Liam can't see - or wouldn't care about, because his eyes are intent on his belly.
It is obscene the way the thick of his prick looks, heavy and leaking against his bunched up belly. Bradford rubs a thumb up the underside, moaning softly before dragging the pad of his finger against the slit. He always does that too, teases at the head before getting a proper grip around himself.
Liam moans, pumping his cock slowly - wishing he could better imagine those slender fingers of Bradford's wrapped around himself instead of his thicker ones, his tongue sliding against Liam's skin the way it always does across his bottom lip. Liam wants to taste his skin too, drag his teeth over the gun tattooed at his hip, or the heart shaped tattoo on the other side. He wants to make his own tattoos in between them, mouth shaped and purpled.
He makes a mental note to buy headphones for his new flat as Bradford's whimpers echo throughout the room, because there is no doubt in his mind that Niall would never let him live this down if he finds out. He has cancelled his plans with Lou and him tonight to watch Bradford, looking forward to speaking to him, watching him all day and it had made him distracted at work -
Bradford rubs his palm over the head before slicking his length with the precome collected at his fingers, the shine glowing from the light of the computer screen. "Want a taste?"
Liam groans roughly, knocking his head back against the back of his chair. It is amazing to him that Bradford hasn't made him combust permanently because every time Liam logs on to watch him, it feels like it.
+*
The room is mostly quiet, other than the soft moans that echo off the walls and the slick sound of a hand working over a cock. But his heartbeat pounds against his ears, muting all of it so he can only feel the whimpers roll off of his tongue and feel the slick of his cock gliding against his palm.
He shivers when he teases himself, rolling his thumb over the head, spending too much of his time rubbing at the slit just like he always does, because he likes the way precome streaks out, the way his cock flushes an obscene red that is hard to see under the bluish glow of the computer screen.
Zayn bites around his grin, eyeing the steady stream of comments that pop up in the message box on the right of the box where he can see himself. He searches for one username in particular, the username that always makes him feel like the arousal in his belly is too hard to contain -
There is just something normal about him, and maybe it is just the fact that he is probably the only username that isn't anonymous or doesn't have anything to do with the size of his prick or something like AssEater69. And probably the compliments that make Zayn's cheeks feel like fire, because they are always sweet and Zayn likes to imagine them being whispered into his ear right before he comes.
And he has been around since Zayn has started this, over two years ago when he realized his job at the bookshop isn't going to help him much with uni and the countless amount of other bills he has. Every time Zayn has a show, he has been there. Twice a week, for two years. And even more in the summer, when Zayn did more shows than normal to build up his savings, and because he might enjoy it more than he wants to admit.
"Fuck," Zayn groans, eyes fluttering shut in a way he knows will highlight the shadow that his eyelashes create against the high of his cheekbones. He likes it this way, the only light in the room is from the dim glow of the computer screen and the far away lamp placed on his desk. Too much light bites away at his confidence.
On the computer he watches the way his hand blurs over his cock, the way the glow reflects off the precome dripping down his fist. The flush on his chest looks darker in the dim light, sweat clinging to his skin and it is thrilling sort of, thinking of the few hundred faceless people logged on right now that are watching him, getting off to him.
He closes his eyes as he nears closer, trying to imagine someone else there with him. He always imagines the same face, the same lad who always seems to be leaning against the brick wall of the Business Building, cigarette dangling between his lips whenever Zayn passes by to go to the Arts Building. His hair is always pushed up into a curly quiff with strands sometimes falling in front of his forehead, and always clad in a leather jacket hugged tight to his broad shoulders like he has an obsession with the greaser look.
Except for one time has Zayn seen him without the jacket. Well, nothing covering his chest at all, actually. Playing footie with Tommo and Nialler, and Zayn had shrunken into the driver's seat of his car as he waited for Nialler to get in, peering over the window to get a glimpse of the way the muscles of his abdomen danced as he ran.
Zayn imagines those muscles dancing again right before he comes across Zayn's belly, the thick muscles of his arm bulging as he works his hand over Zayn's cock while Zayn's slender fingers are wrapped around his. Those full lips pressing to his sternum, a hoarse voice thick with arousal telling him what a good lad he is being -
His moans echo off the walls, something that will be a problem when he moves into his new flat in a few days. Harry is never here, but always at the flat they are moving into. (Which is one of the reasons they had decided to move in the first place). Zayn likes to be loud, whether on camera or in bed with someone, he always wants everyone to know how good he feels because he likes hearing how good he makes others feel.
The muscles of his belly contract violently, hips bucking up into his fist as he nears closer and toes curling in the air where one of his legs hangs over the side of the chair. He imagines a scruffy beard against his jaw, rawing his skin and teeth digging into the slope of his neck, him begging Zayn to moan his name -
Liam.
Zayn flicks his eyes open, making a show of the way his lips part around his hitched off moans, the way his back arches from the computer chair and the slope of his neck as his head tilts back, showing off the tendons that pop out as his body tenses before he comes.
The comments pop up faster as come slips down his fist and streaks out onto his belly, some dirty to the point of gross, some just complimenting, telling him how pretty he looks when he comes or how they are about to come too.
Wolfie93: fuck u look beautiful, tell me how u taste ?
The corners of Zayn's lips quirk up as he spots the username, covering up the way his heart picks up the pace and a shot of lingering arousal goes through him. He keeps his eyes on the screen as he scoops up some come from his belly, tongue flattening past his lips as he drags his fingers against it. He wraps his lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut as he moans -
"Mm," he groans obscenely, wiping his thumb against the corner of his lips. "Tastes good, but I'd rather it be yours."
He gives the audience a lazy grin as he leans forward, his face coming closer to the camera as he hits the PM button next to Wolfie's username. He speaks in a husky voice, his accent thicker as it rolls off his tongue and he says his normal spiel of thank you for watching and hope to see you next time before closing out of the livestream.
BradfordBadBoy: especially u aha ! x ;). hope u will b :)
Wolfie93: cancelled on me mates 2nt to c u, so ill defo be there :D
Zayn grins foolishly, feeling his cheeks warm as his fingers hover over the keyboard. They always do this, talk for a few minutes after one of Zayn's shows and it always drives him a bit mad, the curiosity he has to know what Wolfie looks like. But he is nervous about him being some creepy man, and he prays that 93 is the year he was born and not his age.
BradfordBadBoy: im honored babe ;), i will make it worth it x