What If?// WDW BxB: Corbyn-Shots

Day 9: Peeping Corbyn- Zorbah

Summary: Okay, so, you would think having his best friend's window directly beside his own would keep Zach and Jonah from fucking in front of it, right? Wrong

Corbyn's POV
Deleting his search history never crossed his mind. He never thought about the sound echoing into the hall. He didn't worry about finding the stars attractive.

Corbyn didn't scour the internet looking for clips. Staring at a bright screen with glazed eyes, pausing, rewinding. Instead, he waited, waited until 9 o'clock each and every night.

When parents had gone to sleep and siblings resided to their safe places, doing whatever the hell they did when the piercing, judging eyes of those around were blocked. When they were all that exsisted.

The soft, almost silent scrape of his moon chair dragging across the carpet. The silky fabric of maroon curtains tucked between pale fingers, pulling gently. The Sun's fading shafts easily beaten by his closet lamp.

His lube and lotion sat side by side on his desk, slowly emptying with each new night. His hand towel folded neatly beside, the dark material stained and crisp. Begging to be washed.

He sat, watching the only door to Zach's room fly open. Bouncing of the stopper and into Jonah's side. Kicked closed, locked with fumbling fingers.

Zach's little body jumped with every rough thrust. Skilled digits teasing his erection, frozen gems glazed.

He loved to watch their hair. Study the slow, intricate process of undoing flawless strands. Reverting gorgeous styles back to simple, messy locks.

The flutter of sweet chocolate, the pendulum swing of a hanging tongue. The stories written across pastel yellow. Tales of pleasure and passion transcribed in misty water drops.

Reading swollen lips, watching each filthy insult and slurred command. Every whimper of daddy and plea for more.

A heavy head dropped into a strong shoulder, flushed skin paling as a much larger body forced it against the wall.

His grip tightened, plump lips tucking snug between gleaming fangs. Thumb swiping away a pool of collecting pre, spreading it across his penis.

The hot shaft squirmed against his palm, weeping with each firm stroke.

Hooded brown drifted around his room, dazed with ecstasy. They slowly met watching blue, frost-clad jewels locked with rusting iron.

Storm clouds rolled over shining pennies, inky rain collecting in the center. Forming glistening ebony pools. An already swollen lip, hiding behind sharp teeth.

Maybe... the open curtains hadn't been an accident.

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