“Bathroom’s through there,” I said. “Instructions are in the box. Come out when you’re done.”
He looked at the bathroom door. He looked at me. He looked at the cage.
“Miles,” he said.
“Brett,” I said.
He took the box.
He stood slowly. All six foot-three of him unfolded from my desk chair, and for one moment, we were close. Very close. His eyes were dark. His jaw was tight. He smelled incredible. I kept my face completely neutral through what I can only describe as an act of extraordinary personal discipline.
He turned. Walked into the bathroom. Shut the door.
I sat on the bed.
I pressed both hands flat against my knees.
I listened to the silence on the other side of that door and smiled at my own floor like an idiot.
Then I straightened up and waited.
The bathroom door opened after a few minutes of shuffling and bumping around in there.
Brett stood in the doorway, both of his big hands cupped tight over his crotch like he was trying to hide a crime scene. His massive jock shoulders were hunched up, traps flexed hard, and the usual swagger had completely cracked.
He always looked like a fitness ad, nothing but pure muscle, his wide chest stretching his shirt thin across thick pecs, deep-cut abs obvious even through the fabric, and those powerful tree-trunk thighs that could crush a man between them.
But right now, sweat glistened along his forehead. His face was flushed, jaw tight, eyes wide with a mix of panic and pure frustration he had no words for. The big, untouchable jock suddenly looked like a man whose entire world had narrowed to the throbbing problem trapped under his palms.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“I can’t get it on.” A pause. “I’m too hard.”
“Does chastity excite you?”
“No, dumbass.” His voice was sharp. “It’s just because I’m touching my dick.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, so get back in there and put it on.”
“I can’t get my dick to go down.”
“Okay.”
“It pisses me off when you keep saying okay.”
“Okay.”
He exhaled through his nose. A long, pained sound. Then, quieter, “Can you help me out?”
“Help you out, how?”
He shifted his weight. His pants were halfway down his thighs. He looked ridiculous and incredible. “I don’t know. Suck it or something.”
“I’m not going to suck your dick. You lost the bet. You should suck mine.”