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“Just to see,” I mutter. “For research.”

I bend my knees, plant my feet on the mattress, and spread them a little. The position alone sends a shiver down my spine. Fuck, I’m so exposed. I reach down past my balls, under them, and for a second I just rest my slick fingers against the spot and breathe.

Okay. Okay. It’s my own body. I’ve had it for twenty-two years. There’s just a part of it I’ve never visited.

I press one fingertip against my hole and circle it.

The touch makes me gasp, the sensation sharp and completely foreign. I rub slow circles around the ring of muscle, working the lube in, feeling it flutter under the pressure. My cock twitches hard against my stomach and smears a wet streak across my skin.

“Shit,” I whisper.

I keep circling. The muscle relaxes a fraction under my fingertip, and that’s when I push.

The tip slides in, and my whole body locks up.

It’s so tight. The ring clamps down on my finger like it’s trying to push me back out, and the stretch burns a little. I freeze with just the first knuckle inside, breathe through my nose, and wait. It feels weird and uncomfortable, but there’s something else threaded through it, a pleasant buzz underneath that keeps me from pulling out.

“Okay.” I push in a little more.

My body resists, then the muscle opens around me, and my finger slides deeper. The weird feeling starts to drain away. In its place comes a fullness that has nothing to do with my cock, and yet my cock is pulsing every time my finger moves. I pull back a little and push in again, testing, and the burn is gone. There’s just the stretch now, and the stretch is… oh.

Oh.

I curl my finger, and the pad of it drags across something inside me. The pleasure is so sudden that I whimper. My nerve endings ignite, and I do it again, pressing harder on that spot. My back comes off the bed, hips tipping up, cock pulsing against my stomach, and I have to bite my lip to keep the next sound in. The pleasure goes deeper and sets my whole body off.

Zach was right.

I wrap my free hand around my cock and stroke, and the two sensations blend together.

“Fuck,” I groan, and then I can’t stop making noises. Little punched-out grunts, one per stroke, my hand slick and tight on my cock, my finger pressing and rubbing inside me, my hips rocking as I chase both sensations. My thighs are shaking. My t-shirt is rucked up under my arms, and there’s lube and precum everywhere.

Zach is fully in my head now, no pretense, and I’m thinking that he’d do this better, he’d know exactly where, exactly how hard.

The pressure builds fast, and I chase it, arching off the mattress, both hands working, my finger pressing right there, right there, my toes curling into the sheet.

The lock on the door clicks.

It takes a second to register. Then the door swings open, the hallway light cuts across the room, and Zach steps inside, his eyes landing on me.

8

Zach

I’ve seen plenty of naked bodies in my life. People I’ve hooked up with, people I’ve drawn. None of that prepared me for the sight of Jamie Foster naked on his bed, his swimmer’s build on display: the lean muscles, the sheen of sweat, the tendons standing out in his wrists while he has one hand around his cock and the other buried between his legs.

There’s a bottle of lube open on the mattress beside him, and the flush running from his face down his throat and across his chest tells me he was clearly enjoying himself before I interrupted him.

“Fuck—” Jamie yanks his hand out from between his legs and grabs the blanket in the same motion. He hauls it up over his lap and holds it there with both hands. “Shit, Zach, I thought—you weren’t—I didn’t think you’d be—”

I close the door behind me, and the hallway light cuts off. Now there’s only the lamp on his nightstand and the strip of campus light around the edges of the blinds to illuminate him.

“It’s fine.” I keep my voice flat.

“It is so not fine.”

I cross to my desk and drop my phone. My hands are unsteady, and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“That’s on me for not knocking.”