Page 14 of Canned & Coated

He’s watching us.

Our eyes meet across the dark. His are half-lidded, pupils blown wide, his expression unreadable until the moment his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip.

That one small gesture undoes me completely.

I break apart silently, spilling hot across my stomach and into Milo’s waiting hand, trembling as pleasure tears through me.

I can’t look away from Tanner, and he doesn’t break his gaze either.

Something like triumph flickers in his eyes, then he rolls back over, leaving me trembling in the aftermath, knowing he didn’t accidentally witness a vulnerable moment.

He claimed it.

Milo’s breath is hot against my neck, voice a satisfied rumble. “Fuck, that was hot.”

The words pull me back into my body. Arms still trembling, pulse racing beneath sweat-slick skin, tangled in his embrace.

“Do you think he heard?” he asks.

My eyes dart to Tanner’s silhouette. He’s gone completely still. Not the loose stillness of sleep, but something charged. His spine is a hard line beneath the sleeping bag, shoulders drawn tight, and in the silence between us, I can almost feel the strain humming off him.

“Nah,” I lie. “He’s still sleeping.”

I glance down at Milo, his eyes still hazy with sleep, gaze soft and steady on me.

“Do you need me to…?” I ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “I already came. When you did.”

I hadn’t noticed. Too wrapped up in Tanner. In the weight of his stare. In the way it cracked me open without ever touching me, and what exactly does that say about me?

About us?

My stomach twists with something that feels like guilt but tastes a lot like anticipation. Milo’s arms are still around me, warm and real and everything I chose, while Tanner’s rigid shape lingers across the tent.

Everything I denied.

Truth is, I’ve denied a lot.

Because without denial, there’s only want. And wanting something you shouldn’t have, don’t need, or can’t keep has always felt like the fastest route to trouble.

As Milo cleans us both with his T-shirt, the truth washes over me.

I crave the safety of Milo’s hands and the danger of Tanner’s gaze with equal desperation. Somewhere inside these tent walls exists a version of reality where I don’t have to choose, where wanting both doesn’t make me greedy or broken.

Even if there’s some parallel universe where Tanner wants me as much as I want him, what then?

I’ve spent years building this life with Milo. Becoming someone who doesn’t take without thinking about the fallout.

Now I’m lying here between them, split clean down the middle.

Tanner will leave again. That’s what he does.

Milo deserves better than being someone’s half-choice.

I can’t have both.

I probably can’t even have one without wrecking everything.