Flash Photography Whore

Face

Maybe two days was too long. Maybe George was just going insane on nerves.

He was compelled to pick the latter, because he'd spent far more time than usual watching that stupid hot camboy. There was only ever going to be one livestream in any given day, but that didn't mean George couldn't rewatch all his old videos.

And it's not even like he'd touch himself every time. For the most part, he was just sitting there, watching this guy jerk off. It was still enough to cloud his brain, still enough to make him forget where he was and what time the clock said and what he was supposed to be doing because his attention was so caught.

He'd missed a stream with Sapnap. When Dream asked what he was up to, he said he was busy packing.

That was only halfway to a lie—there was what very well could've been an attempt at packing sitting on the bed behind him. It was more a disaster than anything else, more just an open suitcase with three random shirts thrown in it and not nearly enough space in his head to think about the things that mattered.

Only guilt. Strange, burning guilt. It came from watching a camboy jerk himself off while pretending he was the friend you were supposed to be packing to go see, it came from realizing that he'd watched one of his videos so many times he practically had it memorized.

But he played with his piercing the most in that stream, and George would be lying if he said that piece of metal didn't have him in a fucking chokehold.

He knew that he was supposed to be getting ready to literally leave the country tomorrow, but he was sitting in front of his computer again with the cursor hovering over the play button. The camboy was already visible on the screen, half-blurry where he was standing to press a go live button just as the camera started rolling.

George could already see where the light hit all of his too-enticing skin. He knew very well that he started this stream with all his clothes already off.

He pressed play mindlessly.

It was so mindless that the sudden movement on his screen made him jump. But after his quick moment of startle, he settled back into his chair and waited. Watched as the camboy sat down on the edge of his bed, watched where his cock was already hard and absolutely demanding his attention.

He knew this video. He knew this video. Knew that it would take nearly a minute before anything truly exciting happened, knew that the beginning was nothing but a lax hand at the base of a pierced cock and a sly smile sitting just nearly out of frame.

"It's rude to stare."

And George threw his head back at the sound of his voice. Screwed his eyes shut and whimpered, whimpered through tight lips with a hand itching to move. He was holding his armrests with a white-knuckled grip, some strange version of feigned willpower driving him to keep his hands off his cock.

But he was already getting pathetically hard off what was essentially glorified nothing.

When he tipped his head forward again, a grin had slipped more toothy, a hand toying with the silver barbell in his cock. George could feel where his hands were shaking, and he had a foot up on his desk and a palm pressed to his crotch before he could even think.

If he remembered correctly (and he did), it was about to get to the good part. Not that all of it wasn't the good part, but things got significantly more exciting when those hands were moving faster and George could hear that too-hot voice groaning.

Things were already picking up, egged on by donations that practically begged the man to stop teasing. He laughed with a low kind of darkness, half hissed out through grit teeth when his hand did start to move faster. He rolled his fingers over the head of his cock, slicking precum down to the base and making far too much of a point of leaving it on his piercing.