I opened the door.
He was in a grey henley, sleeves pushed up, and dark joggers. Casual. Like this was nothing. Like he hadn’t spent last night staring at his ceiling running exit strategies. I could tell by the set of his jaw that he had a plan. I didn’t know what it was yet. It didn’t matter.
“Hey,” he said.
“Come in,” I said.
My dorm room was small. That was about to become relevant.
He stepped inside. I shut the door, and suddenly the air was different. He smelled like fresh soap and underneath it something warmer, something naturally sexy, the kind of smell that doesn’t come from a bottle. It was just us, and four walls, a desk and a bed, and the black box sitting right there in plain sight on my bookshelf. Two keys lay against it.
Brett saw it immediately. His eyes went to it and stayed there before he pulled his focus back to me.
“So,” he said.
“Sit down,” I said.
He looked at my desk chair like it had personally challenged him, then sat. He was big in my space in a way that was hard to ignore. His shoulders took up too much of the room. His forearms rested on his knees.
I stayed standing. That part was intentional.
“Here’s how this works,” I said. “You wear this cock cage for seven days. I hold the keys.”
“Both of them?”
“Both of them.”
His jaw tightened. “And if I just —”
“You said you don’t back out of bets,” I said.
That landed. His mouth closed.
I took the box off the shelf and opened it. The cage sat there in its foam cutout, clean and silver. I watched Brett look at it. Something moved through his expression that he immediately tried to flatten.
“It’s not going to fit,” he said.
“It will,” I said. “I did the math.”
He stared at me. “You did the?—”
“Statistically average sizing,” I said. “It came with multiple base ring sizes, too, so that won’t be a problem. It’ll fit, Brett.”
His cheeks went pink. Good.
I held the box out and let him look at it properly. Up close, it was undeniably well-made. Solid weight, no sharp edges. Not a joke purchase. He had to be registering that.
“You bought this specifically for me,” he said slowly.
“Three weeks ago.”
“That’s—” He stopped.
“That’s what?” I asked.
He didn’t finish the sentence. The pink on his cheeks traveled down his neck. I could see him working very hard to look unbothered, and losing the battle incrementally. It was everything I’d wanted, and somehow still more satisfying than I’d prepared for.
The room felt close, too close, and way too damn hot. His scent was everywhere now. Soap and skin, and the faint edge of nervous sweat just starting to make itself known. My pulse was doing something I was managing carefully.