I stared at the ceiling, spinning the whiskey bottle in my hand, trying to ignore the tight knot in my chest. The words were out. I had told Tyler. My best friend, my roommate, the guy who had seen me stumble through hangovers and soccer injuries alike, now knew the worst part about me. The part I had spent months pretending didn’t exist.
“So…you cum like, super speed?” Tyler finally said, breaking the silence, his voice half teasing, half incredulous.
I groaned and threw a pillow at him, barely hitting his shoulder. He laughed, easy and light, the sound filling the room and making me feel absurdly exposed.
“Shut up bro,” I muttered, curling against the edge of the mattress.
He didn’t, of course. He just leaned back, still grinning. “Okay, so how bad are we talking? One minute? Two minutes? Like a cock with a built-in timer?”
I rolled my eyes but the tension in my chest loosened a little. “Mostly just one minute,” I said.
“Damn bro” he replied.
I took a sip of whiskey, swallowing hard. I wanted to tell him everything, the real messy truth. Part of me wanted to hide it all again, pretend it didn’t matter. Part of me wanted him to know, all of it. The nights I had jerked off, trying to last longer. The mornings I woke up, ashamed at how quickly I came. The moments with Ava, pretending I could keep control, the forced smiles afterward.
“It started small,” I said finally, voice low. “At first, it was just… nerves, I guess. I didn’t think much of it. Then… I watched too much porn. Thought I could mimic it. Thought I could last. And I just… couldn’t. With her it got worse. I started panicking before it even happened.”
Tyler nodded, quiet now. Not teasing. Not joking. Just listening. I could see the muscles in his jaw working under the dim lamp, the stubble along his chin catching the light. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t make a face. He just looked at me like I was important, like what I was saying mattered.
“I felt… small,” I admitted, letting the words hang. “Embarrassed. Like I was broken somehow. I stopped trying most nights. I stopped touching myself in ways that mattered. I started pretending it didn’t matter. But it did.”
“You should never be embarrassed for wanting something,” Tyler said finally, voice calm, grounding. “For needing it. Every guy has nights like that. Even the ones who look like they’ve got it together.”
I swallowed, eyes flicking to him. He had moved closer without me realizing, shoulder brushing mine as he leaned back on his hands. The whiskey bottle between us felt suddenly heavy, a small barrier, yet it might as well not have been there. My cock twitched faintly at the proximity, a small, humiliating reminder of everything I was trying to keep under control. I cursed myself silently, aware of the wet patch forming in my boxers, of the precum I could feel already collecting at the tip.
“Seriously,” he said, glancing at me. “If it was me, I’d probably freak out too.”
“You mean it’s never happened to you?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but the quiver in my voice betrayed me.
“Every guy’s had a bad night, trust me,” he said, smirking but softer now. “You just happen to have a few more than usual.”
I laughed, a little short, a little shaky, and it wasn’t really funny. My hands itched to touch myself, to see if I could somehow prove I could control it, but I didn’t. That would be worse…letting him see that side of me first, untrained, desperate. Instead I let them rest in my lap, thumbs rubbing against each other nervously, pretending to scroll through my phone.
“You don’t get it,” I said finally, “I finish too fast. Like, every time. With her, it barely counted. I’d cum before she even got into it. She tried to pretend it didn’t matter, but I knew. I could see it in her face. She tried to kiss me afterward, but I felt… wrong. Disgusting, almost. Like a joke she was humoring.”
Tyler didn’t flinch. Didn’t make a sound. He just nodded, eyes focused on me, not judgmental, not laughing, not pitying.
“I tried… I tried masturbating differently. Edging. Timing. Anything I could think of. And I couldn’t get it right. I’d come too fast, too much, too embarrassing. Precum or full-on cum, it didn’t matter. I’d look at my hands and feel… useless.”
“You’re not useless,” he said firmly, shoulder brushing mine again. “It’s just… premature ejaculation. Nothing wrong with your body, man. Nothing broken. You just haven’t learned how to last yet. That’s all.”
I stared at him. Somehow the words didn’t humiliate me. They didn’t fix everything, but they felt… safe. A little light in a room that had felt too dark all week.
“Safe, huh?” I whispered. “Saying stuff like that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Because it’s true. And also because I get you. I get the nerves, the panic, all of it. And it’s not the end of the world. You can fix this, Noah. I can help you if you want.”
My chest tightened at that, my stomach twisting. I looked at his hand brushing mine again, accidental or not. I thought about how easy it would be to reach for him, to let him feel what I felt, to let him see me like this…open, exposed, trembling.
“I… I don’t know,” I said finally. My voice broke slightly. “I feel… weird about it. Like talking about it makes it real. Makes me smaller. Makes it worse.”
“That’s why we talk about it,” he said, calm. “We name it. We own it. Make it something manageable. Something we can fix.”
I swallowed hard, hand brushing against my cock through my sweatpants. My cock was half-hard now, needy, teasing, frustrated, and I felt the heat spreading. I tried to shift, tried to act casual, but Tyler’s shoulder stayed close, pressing softly against mine, grounding me.
“You’re lucky,” he said quietly, “I’m not laughing. And I’m not disgusted. I get it. Hell, if it was anyone else, I’d probably be rolling my eyes, making fun, like every guy would. But not me. You’re my bro. And maybe… maybe it’s time we do something about it.”
I swallowed, heart hammering. The heat, the tension, the desire all coiled tightly in my chest. I knew what he meant, even if I didn’t want to admit it yet.
“I finish too fast,” I said again, voice trembling, almost a whisper. “Every time. It doesn’t matter what I do, I just… cum too fast Tyler…. Premature… everything.”
Tyler nodded, a faint smirk on his lips, calm and casual. “Alright. That’s fine. That’s real. And now we know.”
The whiskey bottle sat between us, half-empty. The room was quiet except for our breathing, slow, uneven, charged. I looked at him, shoulder brushing mine, and knew that tonight wasn’t over. Not in my head. Not in my body.
__ __
The next morning sunlight cut across the kitchen counter, warming the apartment in a way that made everything feel normal again. Coffee dripped steadily into mugs, filling the space with its bitter aroma. I kept my head down as I poured mine, pretending last night had been just another late-night conversation, even though every word still lingered in my chest.
Tyler leaned against the counter, a grin on his face that tried to look casual. “Rough night, man? You look like someone kicked your ass in your sleep.”
I grunted, stirring sugar into my coffee. “I feel like someone did.”
He laughed, the sound easy and teasing, but there was a subtle glance in his eyes that made me catch my chest tightening. “Skipped the gym again too, huh? Must be rough recovering from your emotional marathon.”
I tried not to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t hide the faint heat in my face. He wasn’t just teasing. He was paying attention. Every movement, the way I poured the coffee, the slight tremble in my hands, the tense set of my shoulders…he saw it all.
I caught myself watching him too. The way his T-shirt stretched over his shoulders when he reached for a mug, the light catching along the ridge of muscle under his arm. I swallowed hard and looked away, focusing on my coffee instead.
We moved through the morning with surface-level normalcy. Jokes about Ava slipped between us as easily as the toast crumbs falling onto the counter. We played video games in the afternoon after classes, each banter-filled moment hiding the lingering weight of last night. But I could feel him looking at me. Little glances I caught from the corner of my eye, a pause when he moved past, the slight smirk when our hands brushed accidentally.
It wasn’t just friendship anymore. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it made me aware of every inch of him and myself.
By evening, the apartment felt smaller, more charged. I was scrolling aimlessly on my phone in my room, trying to distract myself, trying not to think about what it would mean if he really meant what he said last night.
A knock on the door startled me. One hand on the frame, Tyler leaned casually against the doorway. “Hey.. Let’s talk,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.
I laughed nervously. “About what, my tragic sex life?”
He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging slightly. “Kind of. I mean, I thought about what you said last night. All day today too….”
I froze, setting the phone down. My chest tightened. “Oh.”
He hesitated, then added, “I might be able to help you out.”
I blinked, trying to read the smirk on his lips. Was he joking? He didn’t move, didn’t laugh, eyes calm and steady.
“Not in a weird way, man,” he said, leaning a little further into the doorway. “Just… maybe we could work on it. Try stuff. Figure out control.”
The words hung between us. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. My mind raced with all the possible meanings, all the ways he could actually mean it. The warmth from his body, the quiet authority in his voice, made my stomach tighten and my pulse spike.
“You mean like… you helping me?” I whispered, voice barely steady.
Tyler’s smirk deepened, slow and deliberate. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The air shifted in the room, charged with something heavier than friendship, heavier than last night. I could feel it in the small brush of his shoulder as he leaned casually in the doorway, in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, in the quiet confidence of his words.
I swallowed hard, the knot in my stomach coiling tighter, and I realized…this was happening. He meant it. And somehow, I was already waiting for it.
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