Page 24 of Canned & Coated

His shoulder rocks with the rhythmic pump of his arm, water tracing down the tanned curve of his collarbone.

He looks down at himself and then back up to me, an invitation in his eyes. My gaze wavers, drawn downward by gravity before I wrench it back to his face, hating myself both for looking and for stopping.

When he sees my gaze darting everywhere but where it wants to land, his hand reaches for the edge of the curtain. One smooth motion and it’s gone.

There’s no barrier between us now.

I’ve seen him a hundred times in locker rooms, but never like this. Never with his skin flushed and gleaming under the shower spray, never with water tracing every ridge of muscle that wasn’t there when we were seventeen.

“You can look if you want,” he says.

I want. Sweet merciful heavens above, do I ever want.

My whole body goes still as a deer in headlights while my gaze finally surrenders to the pull.

Each droplet seems to know exactly where to travel, cutting through valleys of muscle down his chest and abdomen. My mouth goes dry as I follow that path to where his cock stands proud, flushed and heavy, water beading on the swollen head before sliding down the shaft and disappearing into a thick mound of curly dark hair.

My own cock aches at the sight, the outline visible through my thin fabric of my shorts. Tanner’s eyes drop to the bulge, his lips parting slightly as his fist works faster, water flying off the defined muscles of his forearm with each stroke.

“Take it out,” he says, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.

I shake my head, a jerky motion that feels disconnected from my body.

“You want to,” he says. A statement of fact laid bare between us like his naked body. “Come on. Let me see you jerk your cock, Nate.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight, the motion exaggerated enough I can feel it. Heat floods through me so fast it’s almost disorienting and I swear to God my knees my fully give out.

My voice comes out rough, barely audible over the water. “I wanted to, uh…”

“Okay,” he says, steady, eyes never leaving mine. “Talk.”

“I…” My gaze flickers, betraying me, then snaps back to his face as if that’s any better.

I shake my head, like I can physically clear whatever’s happening out of it.

No chance. It’s already burned in.

“I’m sorry. For being weird earlier,” I say.

“Mmhmm,” he replies.

“You’ve been gone a long time and I was….” My eyes betray me again.

God help me.

“Are we really having this conversation right now,” I ask. “While you’re… you know.”

“You interrupted me,” he says, still pumping. “I’m giving you a chance to say what you need to say before I finish what I started.”

“You can’t…. I dunno. Pause the programming?”

“Do you want me to?”

Do I? Not even a little bit.

But also… maybe yes?

I’m a mess.