Page 32 of Man On

I want to yell at him across the apartment, but I don't want him to get any ideas and come in here.

Lane: No it didn't help, you freak. I know how to do it, that's not the issue.

Noah: So what is?

Lane: Just… no. I can't talk about this with you.

Noah: Would it help if I shared?

Noah: One time I got a hand job, but she was just yanking on it and it hurt. So I pretended to come and then ran away.

Lane: How does a guy pretend to come?

Noah: Good point. She probably knew.

Lane: LOL

Noah: Do you trust me?

Lane: Not even a little bit.

Noah: Ouch.

Noah: Fair though.

Noah: I'm really sorry. Again.

I huff out a heavy breath. Am I really doing this?

Lane: I can't do it by myself. I can't… finish. I get too in my head.

Noah: In your head about what?

Lane: Guilt, eternal damnation…

Noah: Ah, so the usual things.

Noah: I heard it makes you blind ;)

Noah: In all seriousness, why do you think it worked with me?

Lane: Maybe on some level it felt out of my control? I could blame it on you.

Noah: It felt like you needed it.

Lane: I guess I did.

It’s actually nice to talk about this, even if it’s awkward as hell. I don’t know why he’s being so nice to me lately, and I don’t entirely trust it, but I could get used to not fighting. Like brothers.

Noah: …

Noah: Take your cock out.

What? Okay, definitely not like brothers. I thought?—

A surge of blood rushes to my crotch before I can even consider what he's doing.

Noah: Are you hard?

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