Zero metres
By the time Noah reached home, the pleasant tiredness from the gym had begun settling properly into his shoulders. He could feel Marcus’s workout whenever he adjusted the strap of his bag. Nothing hurt exactly, but muscles that had felt perfectly functional an hour earlier had begun making themselves known with every movement. Marcus had claimed he was taking it easy on him. Noah was beginning to suspect their definitions of easy were very different.
The shower afterwards had left his hair slightly damp. The other thing from the shower had followed him too. Every so often, without deliberately thinking about it, Noah remembered the stranger turning beneath the water, both of them hard, the guy slowly stroking his fully shaved cock while staring at Noah’s equally hard one. Nothing had happened. Noah was strangely pleased by that.
Voices came from the kitchen when he opened the front door. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his gym bag beside them and followed the smell of reheated food down the hallway.
Sophie sat at the kitchen table eating leftovers from a plastic container while scrolling through her phone. Liam stood at the bench making toast. Fully dressed.
Noah stopped in the doorway.
“Fancy seeing you in clothes.”
Liam turned. His expression remained blank for perhaps half a second before understanding arrived.
“Don’t.”
Noah smiled. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re about to.”
Sophie put her phone down. Her attention moved between them with immediate interest. “Sorry. What have I missed?”
“Nothing,” Liam said.
“Apparently we’re calling it nothing,” Noah said as he opened the refrigerator.
Sophie looked at Liam. “Why is Noah surprised you’re wearing clothes?”
Liam closed his eyes briefly. “My towel fell.”
Sophie blinked. “Your towel fell.”
“Yes.”
“In front of Noah?”
“There were circumstances.”
Noah took his water bottle from the refrigerator. “He dropped it.”
“You hit me with a gym bag.”
“I barely touched you.”
“You were carrying a weapon in a confined space.”
“It was a bag.”
Sophie looked delighted. “Were you completely naked?”
Liam stared at her. “What exactly do you think happens when somebody wearing only a towel loses the towel?”
“I’m establishing the severity of the incident.”
“It lasted two seconds.”
Noah took a drink. “Memorable two seconds.”
The words escaped before he properly considered them. Liam looked at him. Sophie’s eyebrows climbed. Heat reached Noah’s face, but there was no graceful way to take the sentence back now.
Liam’s expression changed into something quieter and amused. “Good to know.”
Sophie opened her mouth.
“No,” Noah and Liam said together.
She laughed. “I haven’t asked anything.”
“You were going to,” Noah said.
“Obviously.”
Liam returned to his toast with what remained of his dignity. Thankfully, his attention caught on Noah’s abandoned gym bag instead.
“So how was it?”
Sophie looked at him again.
“The gym,” Liam clarified. “I am asking about the gym.”
Noah laughed and put the remaining pasta into the microwave. “Good.”
“You can still walk?”
“So far.”
“Give it until tomorrow.”
“Marcus says you exaggerate.”
“Marcus would say that.”
“He also said you hadn’t trained legs properly in months.”
Sophie immediately pointed her fork at Liam. “That part was true. You complained every time you sat down for two days.”
They ate without anything resembling a formal dinner. Sophie finished her leftovers, Liam apparently decided toast was sufficient nutrition, and Noah worked through the pasta while answering a few questions about orientation. He told them about Callum, the other biology student who seemed incapable of discussing anything for long without somehow returning to reptiles.
By the time Noah finished eating, Sophie had moved on to complaining about work and Liam had started disagreeing with her largely because it entertained him. The whole thing felt comfortably ordinary after a day that had contained considerably more male nudity than Noah had anticipated when he woke up.
Sophie eventually dropped her fork into the empty container and stood.
“I need a shower.”
Noah looked at her. “Try not to drop your towel.”
She grinned. “No promises.”
“Fuck off,” Liam laughed.
Sophie disappeared into the hallway laughing, leaving Noah and Liam alone in the kitchen.
Noah carried his plate to the sink. He had just turned on the tap when Liam spoke behind him.
“Still funny?”
Noah glanced back. He knew immediately what Liam meant.
Noah smiled. “A little.”
“Glad my humiliation could improve your first day.”
Noah turned back to the sink, rinsing the plate. “I wouldn’t call it humiliation.”
There was a brief silence behind him.
“No?”
Noah looked over his shoulder.
Liam was watching him.
Noah held his gaze for a second longer than necessary.
“No.”
Something hovered there between them, quieter without Sophie at the table.
Then Noah put the plate in the drying rack, picked up his gym bag and headed towards his bedroom.
The room was warm enough that clothes lasted less than a minute. Noah pulled the damp singlet over his head, pushed the training shorts down and stretched naked across the bed. His shoulders protested when he raised his arms beneath the pillow. Marcus had definitely lied about taking it easy.
His phone buzzed beside him.
Thomas.
How is your night going?
Noah smiled. He considered the events of the previous few hours before answering.
I feel used.
Thomas replied almost immediately.
Already? I leave you alone for one day.
Noah laughed.
I went to the gym.
Ah. Less interesting.
Not really.
A pause.
Now I am listening.
Noah rolled onto his side, still naked, cock already beginning to thicken against the sheet.
Marcus tried to kill me.
Marcus?
One of my housemates. He studies Exercise science. Basically, lives at the gym.
And he used you.
Professionally.
Disappointing.
Noah smiled. His hand drifted down and wrapped loosely around himself, giving one slow stroke.
Then there was the shower.
The typing indicator appeared immediately.
What shower?
Gym. Guy next to me kept looking.
Thomas waited.
And?
Got hard. Both of us. He started stroking himself while watching me.
This time Thomas took several seconds.
And you?
The memory stirred something in Noah again despite the heaviness in his muscles. He stroked himself properly now, foreskin sliding, the head already wet.
Got hard. Watched. Then left.
Nothing happened?
Nothing.
Thomas’s next question was different from the teasing Noah expected.
Did you want something to happen?
Noah stared at the screen for a moment, fist moving slowly.
Yeah.
Why didn’t you?
He thought about Saturday. The faceless stranger at the beach had offered an opportunity, and Noah had followed almost immediately because he needed to know what happened if he said yes. Monday had felt different.
Didn’t feel like I had to.
Thomas reacted with a heart.
Good.
Good?
Curious does not mean yes to everything.
Noah smiled, still stroking.
Annoyingly sensible.
And attractive.
Debatable.
Thomas sent a laughing face.
Noah’s hand worked steadily now. Precum beaded at the tip and began to slick his fingers. He could have left the conversation there. Instead he typed one-handed:
Also Liam got naked.
The response was immediate.
Noah.
He laughed, hips lifting slightly into his fist.
Accidentally.
Of course.
His towel fell.
These sharehouses are dangerous.
Noah grinned at the screen, stroking faster.
Thomas asked the inevitable question.
Did you look?
Maybe.
Liar.
Fine. Yes.
Good?
Noah didn’t need to think. The image of Liam’s soft uncut cock hanging wet against his thigh was still vivid.
Very.
That answer felt more revealing once it sat on the screen. Thomas replied:
You like this housemate.
Noah frowned, still working his cock.
He’s my housemate.
Not an answer.
I’ve known him three days.
Still not an answer.
Noah stared towards his closed bedroom door, fist sliding wetly.
He’s attractive.
Thomas replied almost immediately.
There it is.
What?
You talk differently about him.
Noah laughed under his breath, precum now coating the head and beginning to drip onto his stomach.
We are messaging.
Exactly.
“Dick,” Noah muttered, still stroking.
His phone buzzed again.
I assume that was affectionate.
Noah smiled. Before he could answer, someone knocked on his bedroom door.
He froze, hand still wrapped around his cock.
Another knock.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me.”
Marcus.
Noah looked down at himself - fully hard, the head shiny with precum.
“Shit.”
He rolled off the bed, yanked on the nearest pair of soft grey shorts, and tried to adjust himself. The thin fabric immediately darkened at the front where the precum soaked through. There was no hiding it.
He crossed the room and opened the door.
Marcus stood in the hallway in a dark T-shirt and loose shorts, hair still damp from his own shower. Without the gym around him he looked more relaxed, although Noah could still feel the memory of Marcus standing behind the bench, hands close to his shoulders.
Marcus’s gaze moved over Noah’s bare chest and then dropped openly to the front of the soft shorts - to the thick, obvious outline of Noah’s still-hard cock and the dark wet patch of precum spreading across the fabric. His eyes stayed there a second longer than necessary before returning to Noah’s face.
“Bad time?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly. Marcus’s mouth twitched.
“Right.”
“What’s up?”
“Checking I didn’t break you.”
Noah laughed, painfully aware of how little the soft shorts were hiding. “Seriously?”
“You kept training after I left. Anything hurt?”
Noah rolled one shoulder experimentally. The movement made his cock shift inside the soft shorts. The thin material clung to the thick, obvious outline.
“Only everything.”
“That’s normal. Anything sharp?”
“No.”
“Numb?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll survive.”
“Very reassuring.”
Marcus's eyes flicked past Noah to the phone lying face-up on the bed, then dropped again, lingering openly this time on the dark, spreading wet spot and the hard shape beneath it. He didn’t pretend not to notice. When he looked back up, his voice was quieter.
“I interrupted something.”
It wasn’t a question.
Noah felt heat climb his neck.
“No.”
Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, but his gaze stayed low for another second, taking in the precum-soaked fabric and the thick outline it couldn’t contain.
“Wednesday?”
“You’re assuming I’m coming back.”
“You are.”
Noah smiled. “Confident.”
“Usually.”
Marcus turned towards his own room, then paused and looked back one last time. His eyes dropped deliberately to the front of Noah’s shorts again, lingering on the wet spot.
“Thanks,” Noah said.
Marcus shrugged, suddenly looking slightly uncomfortable with being thanked, though his gaze hadn’t fully left the evidence of what he’d interrupted.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You came to my bedroom to make sure my arms still worked.”
“Goodnight, Noah.”
Noah laughed, the sound a little rougher than usual. “Goodnight.”
He closed the door. The soft shorts were now noticeably wet at the front, the precum still spreading, his cock still hard and aching against the thin fabric.
His phone buzzed almost immediately.
Thomas.
You disappeared.
Marcus.
Gym one?
Yeah. Came to check he hadn’t broken me.
There was a pause.
Your housemates are very attentive.
Noah smiled, pushing the shorts down again and wrapping his hand around himself. The precum made the slide effortless.
Apparently.
Another message appeared.
Everything still works?
Noah looked down at his cock, flushed and shiny, a thin string of precum connecting the head to his stomach.
Unfortunately.
Thomas reacted with a laughing face.
Noah put the phone aside and settled back against the pillows. He had been horny on and off for most of the day, and Marcus’s interruption had only delayed what had already seemed inevitable. He stroked with slow, deliberate focus, no longer bothering to organise the images competing for his attention.
Thomas came first because Thomas was easiest - the narrow bed, the 69, the way Thomas had swallowed every thick pulse, then straddled his chest and painted his face. Then the stranger under the gym shower, fully shaved, stroking himself while staring at Noah’s hard cock. Marcus standing close behind the bench, hands on his shoulders, eyes dropping to the front of his shorts. Liam’s towel hitting the hallway floor, the soft uncut cock hanging wet and heavy.
Noah worked himself faster, hips lifting, the wet sound of his fist clear in the quiet room. When he came it was hard and messy - thick ropes spilling across his stomach and chest, some of it reaching his collarbone. He kept stroking through it until the last pulses faded, then lay still, breathing hard, cum cooling on his skin.
He cleaned himself up with the discarded shorts, set two alarms, and fell asleep naked beneath the sheet.
Both alarms apparently failed. Or Noah did.
He woke to sunlight already pressing around the edges of the curtains and knew immediately that something was wrong. His phone read 8:17.
“Fuck.”
Introduction to Biochemistry practical started at nine. The practical laboratory was on the other side of campus. Noah was out of bed before his brain had fully caught up. The ache in his shoulders arrived the moment he stood.
“Oh, fuck you, Marcus.”
He showered in less than four minutes, brushed his teeth while trying to locate the clothes he had set aside the previous night and discovered that the shorts he would normally have worn were useless anyway. Laboratory. Long trousers. Closed shoes.
He dragged open the wardrobe. Jeans felt unbearable in the heat. Near the back was a pair of stone-coloured chinos his mother had insisted he pack. They were lighter than denim, loose through the thighs and comfortable enough that Noah could tolerate them. He pulled them on. As usual, nothing underneath. The fabric was considerably less revealing than his usual shorts, which probably qualified as another laboratory safety feature. A plain black T-shirt followed.
No breakfast. No coffee. No careful checking of the bus timetable. Noah shoved his lab coat, safety glasses, notebook and laptop into his backpack and ran.
The bus doors closed behind him at 8:31. Noah dropped into the first available seat and tried to slow his breathing. His hair was still damp. One shoe was tied noticeably tighter than the other. He had forgotten deodorant and remembered it only after leaving the house. At least he had brushed his teeth. Probably.
His phone buzzed. Callum.
You coming?
Bus.
That wasn't the question.
Yes.
They've assigned us stations.
Noah looked at the time. 8:43.
Together?
Don't get excited. Haven't checked.
Save me.
No promises.
The bus seemed to stop at every traffic light in the city. By the time Noah reached campus he had eight minutes. He made the walk from the bus stop in five.
The science building smelled faintly of disinfectant and air conditioning. Noah took the stairs two at a time, followed signs towards the teaching laboratories and reached the correct corridor with less than two minutes remaining.
Callum stood outside the laboratory in a white coat and safety glasses pushed onto his head. He looked Noah over.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re sweating.”
“I ran.”
“Why?”
“I enjoy suffering.”
Callum glanced at the long trousers. “You actually remembered lab pants.”
“I remembered them approximately twelve minutes ago.”
“That counts.”
Students were already filing inside. Noah pulled his lab coat from the bag while walking.
“What are we doing?”
“Pipetting.”
Noah looked at Callum. Callum shrugged. “That’s all I got from the pre-lab.”
“You did the pre-lab?”
“Of course.”
Noah stared at him.
Callum smiled. “No. I watched half the video on the bus.”
“Good.”
A laminated sheet had been taped to the wall beside the laboratory doors beneath a sign reading Practical 1 — Station Allocations. A simple diagram showed the numbered benches, with two names listed at each station. Several students were crowded around it trying to find themselves.
Callum leaned closer.
“There.”
Noah followed his finger.
Station 12 — Noah Smith / Ryan Taylor
Immediately beneath it:
Station 13 — Callum Anderson / Eleanor Murphy
Callum stared at the sheet.
“No.”
Noah laughed. “What?”
“We had a good thing.”
“It lasted about thirty seconds.”
“I thought we were partners.”
“Apparently the university disagrees.”
Callum looked at the name beside Noah’s.
“Ryan Taylor. Hope he appreciates what he’s getting.”
“I’m sure he'll cope.”
“I’ll remember you.”
“You’re literally one bench away.”
“That isn't the point.”
Noah pushed him lightly towards station thirteen. “Go.”
Callum disappeared between the benches with exaggerated reluctance.
The teaching laboratory was larger than Noah expected. Long black benches ran across the room in rows, each marked with a number at the end. At the front, a projector displayed:
Introduction to Biochemistry — Practical 1
Pipetting, Accuracy and Precision
Noah felt something in him settle. This was more familiar territory.
He found station twelve.
Someone was already there.
The guy looked up when Noah approached. Dark hair. Lean face. Athletic build visible even beneath the open white lab coat. A black T-shirt showed at the collar, along with a thin silver chain resting against the skin at the base of his throat.
Something about the chain registered.
Not enough.
“Station twelve?” the guy asked.
Noah glanced at the number on the bench. “Unless I got lost in the last twenty metres.”
The guy smiled. “Ryan.”
“Noah.”
“I know.”
Noah raised an eyebrow.
Ryan nodded towards the entrance. “It's on the list.”
“Right.”
Noah dropped his bag beneath the bench and pulled on his lab coat.
Ryan looked him over briefly. Noah was still warm from running across campus, his hair slightly damp at the temples.
“You actually ran here, didn't you?”
“Most of the way.”
“Cutting it close.”
“I had two whole minutes.”
“Plenty.”
“Exactly.”
Ryan glanced towards the coloured solutions arranged across the bench.
“We’ll be fine.”
“You sound very confident.”
“We’re moving blue water from one tube to another.”
Noah looked at the equipment.
“When you say it like that.”
“Advanced science.”
Noah laughed.
The demonstrator began explaining the practical. They would use three different micropipettes to transfer defined volumes of coloured solution, record repeated measurements and calculate the percentage error. The purpose was less about producing meaningful biochemical data and more about preventing them from destroying expensive experiments later in the semester.
Ryan leaned slightly towards Noah.
“She really doesn’t trust us.”
“She hasn’t met us.”
“Exactly.”
They started with the largest volume. Ryan picked up the pipette first.
“Want to go?”
“You’re already holding it.”
“That sounds like fear.”
“That sounds like you wanting someone else to make the first mistake.”
Ryan smiled. “Also true.”
He fitted a tip, adjusted the dial and drew up the blue solution. Noah watched. Ryan’s technique was surprisingly competent until he released the plunger too quickly and a bubble appeared inside the tip.
Noah pointed.
“You’ve got air.”
Ryan looked.
“Fuck.”
“Expert.”
“Shut up.”
He discarded the tip and tried again. The second attempt worked. They transferred the volume, recorded it and swapped.
Noah found the motion more intuitive than he expected. Ryan watched him.
“No bubble.”
“Because I listened.”
“Show-off.”
They moved through the first series quickly. The exercise was repetitive enough that conversation filled the spaces between measurements. Ryan had moved from Sydney. Noah mentioned he had come from several hours away. Ryan was also studying biology but wasn’t certain what he wanted to specialise in.
“Genetics, maybe,” he said while recording another number. “Something molecular.”
Noah looked at him. “Same.”
“Seriously?”
“Proteins, genetics. That kind of thing.”
Ryan nodded towards the blue solution. “And yet here we are.”
“Moving coloured water.”
“Living the dream.”
Noah smiled. A strand of Ryan’s dark hair had fallen forward while he worked. When he pushed it back, the movement shifted the collar of his T-shirt and exposed more of the silver chain.
Noah looked at it. Silver. Thin. Simple. Something tugged at his memory. He had seen a chain like that yesterday. On a torso.
Noah’s attention dropped briefly across Ryan’s body beneath the open lab coat. Lean. Athletic. Not Marcus. Less broad. Dark hair visible where the T-shirt opened slightly at the neck. It could have been. Except half the men on campus probably owned silver chains.
Noah returned to the data sheet.
“Your turn,” Ryan said.
“What?”
“The pipette.”
“Right.”
Ryan’s mouth tilted.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
Noah reached for it.
Half an hour later they had settled into a rhythm. Pipette. Record. Swap. Calculate. Ryan made fewer mistakes than Noah expected from someone who had begun by aspirating air, although his percentage calculations were another matter.
“That can’t be right,” Noah said.
Ryan looked at the number.
“Why?”
“You’ve got twelve percent error.”
“Maybe I’m terrible.”
“You’re not twelve-percent terrible.”
“That’s possibly the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”
Noah took the calculator.
“You divided by the measured value.”
Ryan watched him redo the equation.
“Oh.”
“Expected value.”
“Right.”
“Advanced science.”
Ryan gave him a look.
“Enjoying this?”
“A little.”
Noah’s phone vibrated against the notebook. He ignored it. A few seconds later it buzzed again. Ryan’s eyes flicked towards the screen. Noah looked down.
Grindr. Thomas.
The preview showed only:
How are the shoulders?
Noah turned the phone face-down. When he looked up, Ryan was measuring blue solution with intense concentration. Perhaps too intense. Noah said nothing.
They completed another measurement and moved on. A few minutes later, Noah checked his phone again and replied:
Survived. In lab.
Thomas replied almost immediately:
Serious scientist.
Noah smiled and locked the screen.
The demonstrator announced that they had ten minutes before the next section. Around them, students started stretching, checking phones and comparing calculations. Ryan took his own phone from his pocket. Noah did the same.
Almost automatically, his thumb found Grindr. The grid refreshed. His eyes stopped.
Looking? Distance: 0m
For a moment Noah simply stared. The cropped torso appeared exactly as it had yesterday. Lean. Dark hair across the chest. Low black shorts. And the silver chain.
Noah looked up. Ryan stood beside him, head lowered towards his phone. The chain disappeared beneath his black T-shirt. Noah looked back at Grindr.
0m.
A message appeared.
Found you.
Noah’s pulse jumped. His cock gave a slow, heavy throb inside the chinos - strong enough that the soft fabric shifted. He turned his head. Ryan was still looking at his phone. The smallest smile appeared at one corner of his mouth.
Noah typed:
You’ve got to be kidding.
Ryan’s phone vibrated. He read it.
Nope.
Noah looked across the bench at him. Ryan finally met his eyes. Nothing about his expression would have meant anything to anyone else in the room. To Noah it meant everything.
He looked back at the app.
You were at orientation yesterday.
So were you.
91m.
I noticed.
Noah smiled despite himself. His cock throbbed again, the movement visible if anyone had been looking at the front of his chinos.
Did you know it was me?
Ryan typed for several seconds.
Not until your phone lit up.
Noah glanced at him. Ryan picked up a pipette as though they were discussing the practical. Aloud, he said, “You ready for the next one?”
Noah stared at him.
“Yeah.”
His phone buzzed beneath the bench.
Good profile btw.
Noah swallowed. He typed with one hand.
Yours doesn’t even have a face.
Ryan read the message.
You seem to have worked it out.
Noah glanced at the silver chain. Ryan caught him looking. His smile deepened.
The demonstrator began talking again, forcing them both to put their phones away. Noah tried to listen. Something about precision. Replicates. Coefficient of variation. None of it stuck. Ryan stood less than a metre away. Actually, according to Grindr: zero metres.
The second half of the practical was harder for reasons that had very little to do with biochemistry. Ryan behaved completely normally. That was the problem. He asked Noah for the P200. Recorded values. Rinsed a tube. Complained when a pipette tip refused to eject. Every few minutes Noah remembered the photograph. He had looked at that torso yesterday. Had wondered which of the dozens of men surrounding him might belong to it. Now the answer stood beside him calculating percentage error, and every time their shoulders brushed Noah’s cock gave another slow throb inside the chinos.
During another pause, Noah’s phone vibrated. He resisted for perhaps ten seconds. Then checked beneath the bench.
Ryan.
Commando.
Noah looked at him. Ryan was writing in the workbook. Noah typed:
What?
A moment later Ryan checked his phone.
Your tag.
Noah remembered his own profile. Commando. Curious. Looking. Uni. Coffee. He felt warmth crawl into his face and lower, into his cock.
What about it?
Ryan replied:
Just checking accuracy.
Noah almost laughed aloud. His cock was half-hard now, pressing against the soft fabric of the chinos.
We’re meant to be checking the pipettes.
Multitasking.
Noah looked towards Ryan’s long dark trousers. Then typed:
Your profile says Looking?
Ryan read it.
It does.
Very informative.
You clicked.
Fair.
Noah considered his next message.
Lab rules require long pants.
Ryan looked over at him. Slowly. His eyes moved down the front of Noah’s lab coat towards the stone chinos beneath it, lingered openly on the clear outline of Noah’s fully hard cock, then back up. The look lasted barely a second, but it was deliberate.
Noah’s phone buzzed.
That doesn’t answer the underwear question.
Heat settled low in Noah’s stomach. His cock throbbed hard enough that the fabric shifted again. He typed:
You’ll have to keep wondering.
Ryan read it. His eyes met Noah’s. Then:
For now.
Noah stared at the words. They landed with considerably more weight than two ordinary words should have.
“Everything okay?”
Noah looked up. The demonstrator stood at the end of their bench.
“Yeah.”
Ryan answered at the same time.
“Perfect.”
The demonstrator looked at their worksheet.
“You’re missing the final replicate.”
Noah looked down. They were.
“Right.”
She moved on. Ryan waited until she was out of earshot.
“Excellent teamwork.”
“Your fault.”
“You messaged me.”
“You started it.”
Ryan smiled.
“Did I?”
Noah picked up the pipette.
“Final replicate.”
“Yes, boss.”
Noah fitted the tip. Ryan watched him draw up the solution.
“Slowly,” Ryan said.
Noah looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“The plunger.”
Ryan’s expression was perfectly innocent, but his eyes dropped once more to the front of Noah’s chinos.
Noah narrowed his eyes.
“I know how to use it.”
“I’ve seen your numbers. You’re very accurate.”
There was just enough in his voice. Noah dispensed the solution into the tube. Ryan looked at the measurement.
“Perfect.”
Noah tried not to smile. Failed. His cock was still half-hard, the soft fabric of the chinos doing almost nothing to hide it.
Callum found him outside the laboratory afterwards. He was leaning against the wall with his lab coat draped over one arm, looking exhausted.
“Well?”
Noah adjusted his backpack.
“Well what?”
“Did your partner know how to pipette?”
Noah glanced back through the laboratory door. Ryan was still inside packing his bag.
“Eventually.”
“Mine aspirated liquid directly into the pipette.”
Noah winced.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I looked away for ten seconds.”
“That seems unsafe.”
“I think she’s going to become a surgeon.”
Noah laughed. Ryan emerged from the lab. He had removed the coat. Without it, the resemblance to the profile became painfully obvious. Black T-shirt fitted over a lean torso. The silver chain resting against his chest. Dark trousers sitting low on his hips.
Ryan glanced towards Noah.
“See you Thursday?”
Noah remembered their timetable. Another practical.
“Yeah.”
Ryan nodded towards Callum. “Later.”
Then he walked towards the stairs. Callum watched him go.
“Your partner seems normal.”
Noah looked at him.
“Define normal.”
Callum considered this. “Didn’t destroy a pipette.”
“Then yes.”
They started towards the courtyard. Noah’s phone buzzed inside his pocket. He already knew. Ryan. He waited until Callum was talking about lunch before checking.
You really commando under those?
Noah looked down at the chinos, at the soft outline still visible if anyone looked closely. Then towards the stairwell where Ryan had disappeared. He typed:
Still wondering?
The response appeared almost immediately.
More now.
Noah smiled and locked the phone. Callum looked over.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling at nothing?”
“Apparently.”
They stepped outside into the bright midday heat. Noah found himself already looking forward to Thursday’s practical, for reasons that had very little to do with biochemistry. His cock gave one last slow throb inside the soft chinos as he walked.
