Niall hits the spacebar
again and again, one boring bloke replacing the next one. He’s not
sure why he’s so into that webcam thing, why it thrills him to get
off with strangers. Maybe it’s because he feels a little less
vulnerable, a little more confident about his body than he usually
does. When he’s at a bar with his mates and a boy or a girl start to
hit on him he turns into a tongue tied idiot, already putting himself
down. He points out his flaws to them and himself, making it obvious
how scared he is of being close to someone.
In the end he’s too much
trouble, especially when all they’re looking for is a shag. Louis and
Liam keep shaking their heads at him but he can’t help it, he can’t
get out of his own skin. Only when he’s in front of the webcam his
flaws turn into strengths and he never once wastes a thought on what
the other person might think about him.
But tonight he feels
jittery, restless, and no face or body showing up on the screen
interests him for longer than a second. It’s all very shallow of
course but that’s what you get yourself into when you’re doing stuff
like this. So he keeps skipping to the next connection with his chin
resting in his hand and a bored expression on his face. No one can
see it anyway because he only ever shows himself from the neck down.
He’s too paranoid for more and his face, his crooked teeth, it’s one
of the things he feels most self-conscious about.
But suddenly he stops
thinking, stops his hands and just hovers over the spacebar with his
eyes glued to the screen. The first thing he notices is the ink on
the boy’s body. Birds above his chest, a butterfly right underneath
and the hint of leaves cut off right above the edge of the desk he’s
sitting at. There’s more on his arm, a heart, two hearts, a ship and
Niall can’t stop staring. He’s so toned and probably works out on a
Stranger: Are you from
The message pops up right
next to their webcam screens and Niall blinks in confusion for a
moment, until he remembers that there’s a huge Irish flag on the
front of his low cut tank top. It’s what he feels most comfortable in
while still showing some skin.
You: You’re a right
Sherlock aren’t you?
It’s ridiculous how
focused Niall is on the way the muscles in the stranger’s arms work
while he types out his next words.
Stranger: Don’t be
mean :( Some people wear shirts with flags just for fun.
You: Sry, just fucking
sounds good :))))
Niall shouldn’t be
choking on his own spit because that’s exactly what they’re here for
but he does anyway, feeling his cheeks and his throat flare up with
heat. He bites at his bottom lip and tries to ignore how nervous he
is. He has done this a thousand times before, it’s just getting off
with a stranger. Granted, this is the hottest one he’s been with so
far and he doesn’t even know what the bloke’s face looks like but it
doesn’t matter. Niall is hooked.