Living with Tyler and Noah had been harder from the beginning than I wanted to admit.
Not because they were bad roommates. Quite the opposite. They were normal, helpful, funny, easy to like. The problem was that both of them looked like someone had specifically created them to make me lose my mind.
Tyler was the more confident one. Broad shoulders, a strong chest, a flat stomach, and thighs that always looked way too good whenever he sat on the couch wearing nothing but shorts. He walked around the apartment so casually, as if being half naked were just another part of everyday life. A towel hanging low on his hips after a shower. Loose shorts, sometimes tight in places I shouldn't have been looking at. A smile that made me think maybe he knew more than he let on.
Noah was different. Quieter. Less cocky, but not any easier to ignore. He had a leaner, athletic body, defined abs, and the kind of natural ease that almost got to me more than Tyler's confidence did. Sometimes he came back from the gym sweaty, his shirt sticking to his skin, and I pretended my phone screen had suddenly become incredibly interesting.
The worst part was that I thought they noticed.
They noticed when I adjusted my shorts. When I looked away a second too late. When I suddenly went quiet because one of them sat down beside me half naked.
They just never said anything.
Until that night.
We were sitting in the living room sometime after ten. The TV was playing in the background, but no one was really watching it. Tyler was stretched out on the couch beside me wearing nothing but black shorts, shirtless, with one arm behind his head. Noah sat on the other side of the coffee table, also half naked, his legs stretched out in front of him.
I tried to act normal.
That was the worst part. Pretending their bodies weren't right there beside me. Trying not to notice Tyler's thighs tighten whenever he shifted position, or the slow rise and fall of Noah's stomach as he breathed. Acting like I couldn't feel myself getting hotter every time either of them moved.
The conversation started innocently enough. Parties, girls, sex, stupid things people did when they were horny. Tyler laughed the loudest. As always. Then suddenly, he looked at me.
"I bet you couldn't last a week," he said.
I frowned.
"Without what?"
He smiled slowly, like he'd been waiting for me to ask.
"Without masturbating. Without coming. For seven days."
Noah snorted with laughter, but quickly went quiet when he realized Tyler was still looking only at me.
"Very funny," I said, trying to sound indifferent.
"I'm serious," Tyler replied. "If you make it a week, you get a reward."
My heart beat harder.
"What kind of reward?"
Tyler leaned forward slightly, his grin becoming even more shameless.
"If you make it, I'll let you fuck me."
The living room went silent.
Noah immediately stared at him in shock.
"What are you talking about?"
Tyler didn't even look at him.
"Relax. He won't make it anyway."
I should have laughed.
I should have told him it was a stupid joke, gotten up from the couch, and gone to my room before things became even stranger. But I didn't. I sat completely still, letting every word Tyler had said sink in.
He'd let me fuck him.
It sounded so unreal that for a moment I was sure I'd heard him wrong. Tyler was straight. At least, that was what he'd always said about himself. He liked girls, flirted with them effortlessly, and sometimes came home early in the morning wearing that cocky smile of his. And now he was sitting in front of me half naked, offering me something I never let myself think about for too long.
Noah was still staring at him in disbelief.
"Dude, are you actually serious?" he asked.
Tyler shrugged.
"It's just a bet. Matt will crack after one day anyway."
He looked at me like he knew exactly what he was doing to my body.
I didn't know whether he was serious. The problem was that my body believed him before I did. I felt the pressure building beneath my shorts and instinctively planted my hands firmly on my knees, keeping them as far away from my shorts as possible.
"Fine," I finally said, quieter than I meant to. "A week."
Tyler raised his eyebrows.
"No touching yourself. No masturbating. No coming."
I could have said no. I could have gotten up and ended that stupid bet right then.
But I didn't want to.
I swallowed.
"Deal."
He smiled.
"And if you make it, you get your reward."
Noah didn't say anything else. But he didn't leave either. And somehow that made me feel like we'd really started something none of us could take back.
I thought the bet would start tomorrow.
I really did. For a few seconds, I tried to convince myself that the rest of the evening would be normal. That Tyler had just made some stupid comment, Noah would tell him to shut up, and I'd go to my room with that one sentence burned into my head for the rest of the night.
But Tyler didn't even get up from the couch.
He just looked at me with the same cocky calm and said,
"Let's see how long you last on the first night."
I froze.
Noah immediately lifted his head.
"Tyler, what are you doing?"
Tyler didn't answer. Slowly, he slipped his thumbs beneath the waistband of his shorts and began pulling them down. Not quickly. Not like he simply wanted to get undressed. He did it deliberately, looking straight at me, as if every second were part of the test.
The fabric slid lower over his hips, then down his thighs. I saw his cock, still only half-hard, heavy and exposed, resting loosely between his legs. That sight alone hit me so hard that I had to tighten my fingers against my knees.
I should have looked away.
I couldn't.
Tyler settled back more comfortably against the couch and wrapped his hand around himself. At first, he moved it slowly, almost lazily, like he was more interested in my reaction than his own pleasure. I watched him start to harden beneath his fingers. Watched him grow fuller and harder with every passing second. Watched the barely noticeable change in his breathing and the way his stomach tightened with every movement of his hand.
Noah sat beside us completely still.
"You're actually doing this," he said quietly, more to himself than to Tyler.
Tyler only smiled.
I could feel my own cock straining beneath my shorts, hard enough to hurt. Every movement Tyler made caused the fabric around me to feel tighter. I wanted to adjust myself, touch myself, relieve the pressure for even a second, but I knew that was exactly what he was waiting for.
Tyler ran his thumb over the tip. He gathered the moisture beginning to appear there and slowly spread it over himself while looking me in the eyes. He did it without rushing, with the kind of calm that made it seem like he wanted me to remember every detail. Then he tightened his grip and started moving his hand with more confidence.
There was nothing accidental about it.
It was a show.
For me.
His thighs were slightly spread, his stomach tense, his chest rising faster than before. Every now and then, he glanced down at my shorts and could see exactly how close I was to losing, even though I still hadn't touched myself.
"Having a hard time already?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
I was afraid my voice would give me away.
There was only one thought in my head: one week. Seven days. If I made it, he would be mine.
But watching him now was almost cruel. His hand moved faster, then slowed again, as if he were deliberately stretching out every second. Moisture appeared at the tip again. Tyler spread it over himself, let out a quiet sigh, and leaned his head back against the couch.
My hands were still resting on my knees.
Rigid.
Far apart.
If I touched myself, I would lose immediately. I knew that. One movement of my hand, one stroke through the fabric, and I might not be able to stop. Tyler knew it too. He could see it all over me. He could see it all over me. How tense I was. How shallow my breathing had become. How impossible it was for me to pretend I didn't care.
"Fuck," Noah whispered.
When I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, he still looked shocked, but he no longer looked like he wanted to leave. He was watching. Maybe not as openly as I was, but he was watching.
Tyler sped up.
His stomach muscles tightened harder. His hand moved faster, slick, confident, shameless. His expression grew more focused, but even then, he didn't stop watching me. As if he wanted to come not only for himself, but to break me.
Then his body jerked.
The first shot landed across his stomach, white and thick. The next streaked higher across his stomach. Tyler let out a quiet moan without taking his eyes off me, and I nearly dug my nails into my knees just to keep my hands from moving.
I watched him come.
Watched him do exactly what I wasn't allowed to do.
When he finished, his breathing was heavier, his hand still wrapped around himself. For a moment, he sat there motionless, completely relaxed and satisfied, cum streaked across his stomach. Then he dragged his fingers through the white marks and slowly rubbed them into his skin, like it was the final part of the provocation.
"First test," he said quietly. "And you passed."
I didn't know what to say.
My cock was throbbing painfully beneath the fabric. My entire body was begging for relief, but I just sat there, tense and burning, trying to breathe normally.
It was only the first night.
Not even one full night had passed, and I already knew Tyler wasn't just planning to see whether I could last.
He was planning to do everything he could to make me lose.
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