It had been weeks by now. Weeks of practice sessions that no longer felt like practice. Weeks of nights where Tyler would wander into my room like it was part of his routine, drop onto my bed or stand over me with that lazy confidence, and tell me to breathe slower. Weeks of us getting way too comfortable being nake-d around each other.
Sometimes we started with shirts on. Most of the time we did not bother. It happened naturally. First the shirts came off because we said it was hot. Then the shorts. Then one of us made some stupid joke and the rest followed. It was just normal now. He would be sitting beside me with nothing on, skin warm, eyes steady, like we were two athletes training for a competition.
Tonight was no different. We were already in the middle of a session. I was leaning back against my pillows, breathing too fast again. Tyler sat close beside me, completely nake-d, legs stretched out, his thigh pressed lightly against mine. Casual. Easy. Too easy.
He reached over and placed his hand flat on my chest.
“Slow down,” he said. His voice was low and focused. “Feel it.”
I felt it. His palm. The weight of it. The heat of his skin on mine. My heart beating against his touch. I tried to breathe slower, but the more I tried, the more aware I became of him. His smell, clean and warm. The faint sound of his breath. The way he leaned in just enough that his shoulder almost touched mine.
He kept his hand there longer than necessary.
“That is better,” he murmured, even though I was pretty sure he had forgotten to remove his hand on purpose.
We sometimes watched porn while we did this. He said it helped simulate pressure. Sometimes Tyler would also cum. He would groan softly, body tightening, and I would have to look away fast or my whole chest would go hot and confused.
There were nights where he came first. Nights where he finished and leaned back with a quick laugh and said, “Alright, your turn. Bring it home.” I tried to treat it like training, but every time he finished beside me, it sent this strange electric feeling right through my stomach.
His breathing. His voice. His body next to mine. Too familiar now.
Tonight, as he corrected my breathing again, I caught myself watching his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together when he focused. The small smile he did not know he made when he was trying to calm me down. The softness in his eyes when he said my name.
My name sounded different when he said it now.
I was supposed to be concentrating, but my thoughts kept drifting. Drifting to moments during the day when his hand would accidentally brush mine, or when he would walk around the apartment shirtless and I would go still for a second without meaning to. Drifting to the sound of his voice telling me to breathe. Drifting to the scent of his skin when he sat too close.
There were nights when he went back to his room and I would lie awake for a while, trying to understand what was happening to me. Why I kept thinking about him. Why the sessions stayed in my head long after they ended. Why every time he touched me, even in a technical way, my whole body reacted as if it had been waiting for him.
I did not know what any of it meant. I only knew it was not the same anymore. Not for me.
Tyler shifted closer without thinking and adjusted my hand.
“Right there,” he said softly. “Stay in the moment.”
But his voice was too close. His thigh was touching mine. His body was warm. His hand slid from my chest down my stomach for a second before he caught himself and pulled away.
He cleared his throat, pretending it had been part of the lesson.
But I felt the shift.
I felt everything.
Tyler settled beside me again, closer than before, his thigh warm against mine. The air felt different now. Charged. Heavy. I could not stop looking at him. The curve of his shoulder, the way the muscles in his stomach tightened when he breathed, the calm on his face even though I could tell he was focused on me. Way too focused.
He noticed me watching and smirked.
“What,” he said softly, bumping my knee. “You good?”
I nodded, even though my chest felt tight.
Too good.
He stretched his arm behind him, getting comfortable, then looked at me with a slow grin.
“Alright, my guy,” he said. “Tonight is your test.”
I snorted. “Test? What test?”
His grin got wider. “Let’s see if you can cross the one minute mark.”
My heartbeat jumped. One minute felt impossible. A wall I had never even gotten close to. My best was fifty something, and that had been a lucky night. But the way he said it, the way he looked at me like he already believed I could do it, sent heat through my stomach.
Tyler reached for his phone, opened the stopwatch app, and angled the screen so I could see it.
“Alright,” he said. “You ready? Stroke yourself non-stop”
I swallowed. “Yeah. I think.”
He nodded once.
“Okay. Go.”
I wrapped my hand around my cock and leaned back into the pillows. I tried to relax, tried to ignore how close Tyler was. But the second I started stroking my dick, my eyes drifted to him anyway. His face. His shoulders. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The faint smile playing at the edge of his mouth, like he was already proud of me.
The rhythm started to build. My breath shortened. Heat curled low in my stomach.
Tyler glanced at the stopwatch.
“Ten seconds,” he said. “Good. Keep it steady.”
I kept going. Stroke after stroke, smoother, deeper, trying not to overthink it. Tyler watched with that same focused calm. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, tracking every movement I made.
“Fifteen,” he said. “Nice. Do not slow down.”
I bit back a groan and kept moving.
“Twenty.”
My whole body tightened.
“Thirty,” he said, and his voice was louder, excited. “Hell yes. You got this, Noah.”
I could not help it. I looked at him. Really looked. At the smile spreading across his face. At the way he leaned in like he was watching something important. At the way his eyes stayed glued to my cock and nowhere else.
That look pushed me forward more than anything else.
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.
“Forty five,” he breathed. “Go. Keep going..”
My legs were shaking. My stomach was already pulling tight. Every nerve felt like it was firing at once. I tried to keep it steady, to keep moving, but the pleasure was swelling too fast.
“Fifty five,” Tyler said, leaning closer. “Come on. Come on.”
I felt myself slipping. The pressure was too much. Too sharp. Too fucking good.
“Fifty six,” he said.
“Fifty seven.”
“Fifty eight.”
“Fifty nine.”
I lost it.
My body jerked forward as the orgasm hit hard and fast. I gasped, my hand still moving as cum rushed out of me. It hit my stomach, my chest, my fingers. My breathing shattered into pieces.
And through all of it, Tyler never looked away.
“One minute,” he said softly, tapping the screen. “You did it.”
I fell back against the pillows, shaking a little, my chest rising and falling too fast. My hand was covered in cum, my stomach messy. I was trying to catch my breath when Tyler laughed softly, warm and proud.
“That is my guy,” he said, still smiling at the stopwatch. “Dude. You reached the one minute mark. I could kiss you right now.”
My body went still.
The laughter faded into a quiet in the room. A heavy quiet. The kind that wraps around you and does not let you pretend anymore.
I looked at him slowly. His smile was still there, but softer now. Lower. His eyes stayed on mine. A long, unblinking hold that made something deep inside me flip.
His hand slid onto my thigh, warm and sure. He did not move it away.
My breath caught. My fingers were still sticky, still trembling from everything that had just happened. I felt his thumb press gently against my skin.
I could not look away from him. He could not look away from me.
The space between us shrank. My heart stumbled. Tyler leaned in first, very slowly, watching my eyes the whole time like he was making sure I would not run.
I leaned in too.
Our lips touched in a quick, soft kiss. Barely anything. Just a warm press, a breath, a moment. But it lit everything inside me like it had been waiting for this exact spark.
Tyler smiled when he pulled back. A small, private smile.
“Good job, one minute man.”
He stood, grabbed his underwear from the floor, and tugged them on. The whole time he kept glancing back at me like he was seeing me in a new way.
Then he walked to his door, hips swaying just a little, calling out over his shoulder,
“We move to stage two next”
And he left me there, still shaking, still trying to understand what he meant by stage 2.
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