Reactive Envy

Chapter Eleven: The alone time....

Walking into his own house, Harry breathes a sigh of relief. It's times like today that he genuinely appreciates his mum for buying him his own house rather than going into a shared flat. That's what he had planned after graduating from university.

He could have also been stuck living with his sister, but she protested so loudly that his mum gave in and brought them both houses. Independence is something harry has always had. He hasn't ever relied on anyone else for help, comfort, or financials. He prides himself on owning a home, a car, and having a stable full-time job at such a young age.

Being a twenty-six-year-old very gay man has always had its challenges, but Harry has always been open and proud of who he is. Thinking back on all the times he has sought companionship in another male and all the times that hadn't worked out for him. That brings him full circle back to his currently throbbing problem.

Louis is unavailable, and his partner is beautiful. He hopes Ashton understands just how lucky he is. Finding someone in New Zealand who looks like Louis who is clearly English and has a stable job is almost unheard of. He also seems to have an engaging sassy, but sweet personality to go with everything else.

If this was a novel, they would both be single, meet on a night out, start dating, have mind-blowing sex, and then fall madly in love. Unfortunately, this is reality, not some poorly written romantic comedy book.

Sighing, Harry heads to his bedroom, hoping what he's about to do will ease his frustrations and he can move on from his infatuation with a taken man. He doesn't want to be the other man or cause a breakup, and he refuses to be someone's dirty little secret. He wants to be someone's yellow.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Harry takes a steadying breath. Rubbing his hands up and down his jean-clad legs, feeling the goose bumps hidden underneath, knowing this will be enjoyable at the very least. Harry places his phone, the crumpled paper with Louis' name and number, his keys, and his wallet on the nightstand. Slowly walking towards his wardrobe, Harry begins to slide out of his worn boots, easing his socks off and putting them in the washing basket. Pulling his jeans off his long, toned legs and folding them, putting them on the chair in the corner of the walk-in wardrobe. Taking off his shirt and folding it alongside his jeans he realises his breathing has changed already.

Harry takes another deep breath, flicking the light off to head back to his four-poster bed. Clothed in nothing but tight black boxer briefs while his thoughts are causing his cock to perk up with what is about to happen. It starts to thicken again.

After pulling the bottle of lube out of the bottom drawer of his nightstand and laying down in the middle of the bed, Harry doesn't let himself feel wrong about what he's about to do. It's been a while since he decided hook-ups weren't for him anymore and even longer since he allowed himself to touch his cock without thinking of someone he knew.

Trailing his large hands down his toned chest, Harry feels the already hard nub of his nipple, squeezing it softly. He inhales sharply, loving his sensitivity after not touching them for so long. He moves his hand, slowly continuing to squeeze his nipples, Harry can feel his cock thickening faster. He knows this could be his only chance to wank to the thought of curvy hips, short toned legs, and a round plump ass.

He imagines the ass jiggles juicily when riding a cock or thrusting in and out of a tight hole. Harry thinks of blue eyes, smirking English men. Sighing out a "Louis," Harry traces the outline of his cock, loving the feeling of teasing himself and pretending it is someone else. Knowing delicate hands would feel so much better. One hard squeeze of his cock has Harry needing more. He takes his long, thick, throbbing cock out of his boxers, pushing them down his thighs. Putting a hand back on his nipple, twisting it slightly, using his fingernails to give the sensation of teeth or nipple clamps. Needing the slight sting to ground himself he uses his free hand to click the cap of the lube open, flinching slightly at the cold sensation while drizzling some down his cock. Wrapping a hand around himself, slowly starting to tug to take some pressure off. He wants to make this last, but he knows it won't. He moves his hand down from his chest to dig his fingernails into his hips and thighs, dragging enough to hurt slightly.

He thinks again of what he imagines Louis' ass to look like if Harry was taking him from behind. Picturing Louis begging Harry to give him his cock, begging Harry for more. Thinking of Louis saying, 'More Harry, fuck me Harry, pound into me, Harry.' Harry's hand is tugging so fast that his hand is almost a blur. Thinking about blue eyes looking up at him. 'Make me take it Harry, use me like you mean it; you are so hot when you pound into my tight hole, more Harry, more.' With a loud moan and grunt of Louis' name, Harry comes. Thick white streaks over his hand, up his chest, with a drop or two hitting his chin with how hard he shot his load to the image of Louis. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down from the strongest orgasm he has had in a while.

"Shit, what did I just do?"

He feels slightly guilty, knowing he just had one of the best wanks of his life to a beautiful man that goes home to his partner who looks so in love with him. He can't let this happen again, no matter how much his cock will beg for release every time his mind wanders to Louis. He can't let Louis into his mind anymore, not when he knows how it feels to be cheated on. Ashton doesn't deserve that, and he won't be the reason Louis hurts someone.

Harry cleans himself up, flopping back onto the bed, sighing. "Please, god, don't let me meet him again unless he's single. I can't handle not having him as mine but having to see him around."

If only Harry asked questions instead of making assumptions about other people's lives. He wouldn't have to pray to a god he doesn't believe in.