Page 25 of Man On

Noah stands on top of his mat awkwardly for a long moment, before shaking his head like he's dislodging whatever train his thoughts had taken. "Right, let's do this. I found this video for beginners. It looks pretty straightforward."

"We're athletes. How bad can it be?"

Famous last words.

Forty-five minutes later, neither of us can move out of the last position. Noah can't even reach his phone to play whatever meditation track he was going to play, so we decide to meditate in silence, face first on the ground with our knees tucked under our bodies.

I feel ridiculous. I'm entirely positive we did very little correctly, and I hurt in places that I wasn't aware had muscles.

Admittedly, it got me out of my head. Mostly because we were either straining or laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe. I nearly gave up entirely when Noah was doing a move where you have to touch one foot, twist to the side, and stretch your arm up to the air. When he fell over and farted, I thought it was over. I've never laughed so hard in my life, and I still can't believe we found it in ourselves to keep going.

Noah manages to unfold himself and rolls over onto his back, and I do the same. We end up laying on the floor with our heads parallel with each other's chests and our legs sprawled out in opposite directions. I only have to turn my head to see that he's just as sweaty as I am.

"Maybe we should try taking an actual class. I'm pretty sure I was doing all of that wrong. Plus, hot girls do yoga."

"Feels like I did it all wrong," I admit with a groan. "And I'm not sure a room full of hot girls would appreciate the humor. Or the smell," I add, and we both start laughing again.

Noah punches me lightly in the side. I punch him back, and before I know it, he rolls to his side and pinches me. I narrow my eyes at him, reveling in the way his eyes widen before I attack. And just like that, we're wrestling around on the floor like a pair of idiot children.

It's only a few moments of scuffling around before I've got Noah in a headlock. He's thin, but he's strong, and he tries to get out of my hold by dropping his body weight and flipping me over. I chuckle darkly, because I've got at least eighty pounds of muscle on him. Just to prove a point, I pull his back against my chest and lock my ankles around his thighs. I've got him pinned with almost no effort at all.

"What now, big brother?" I mock.

"You. Giant. Fucking. Asshole." He chokes out the words between huffs of laughter, still refusing to give up even though he's completely immobile.

Not ready to tap out, he wriggles his whole body to shake me off. It makes me laugh harder, but I lock my legs around him a little tighter. It pulls my ankles farther up his thighs and forces him to curve his back into my body.

Our laughter dies and I release him, all but throwing him off me and scrambling back to a seated position with my knees pulled up to hide my embarrassment. Noah's stare is unreadable. I move my eyes away from his.

My skin is too tight, and every inch of me feels like an inferno. I'm blushing all the way down to my toes. I'm mortified, and out of fight or flight, my body is choosing to freeze. I can't move. I'm struggling to even swallow.

I flick my gaze back to Noah, trying to think of what to say to get me out of this embarrassing situation. His eyes are locked on my throat. I don't see any judgment in his gaze, but I can't quite decipher his expression either. He looks confused, and a little pained.

I've made us both incredibly uncomfortable. I can't just sit here and say nothing.

"I-I—" I can't seem to get any actual words out, stuttering through an apology. "I'm sorry. I don't know why that happened."

Noah shakes his head, a silent gesture not to worry about it. But I'm worrying about it. Especially seeing as it's not going away.

"Do you want to try the meditation track?" Noah asks, but his voice is high, like he’s not sure it’s a good idea.

"I think I'm just going to go to bed." Never mind that it's only just after dinner time, and neither of us have eaten.

Noah just nods, though. Like it's normal. He probably wants to get as far away as possible.

The moment I stand up, it’s painfully obvious that I still have a problem, and I quickly run to my room. As soon as the door is closed behind me, I lean against it, huffing out a breath.

My erection throbs in the confines of my sweatpants. Without giving it much thought, I wrap my sweaty palm around it and nearly moan. Within a minute, I'm panting and holding back a groan as the first orgasm I've had in months almost sends me to my knees. Cum shoots out of me like a geyser, painting my hand, the floor, and the wall in ropes of white.

I stare at my hand like it's a stranger, at the mess dripping down my wrist.

What is wrong with me?

Why, God? Why am I being tested in this way?

CHAPTER 9

NOAH

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